The building up or the breaking down of Harleen Quinzel
by Risen86
Summary: I was his psychiatrist, I wanted to help him; it didn't occur to me that I would find his madness intoxicating or that I'd be drawn to him. I wanted to help him but instead he cleared the path to my own insanity. Photo Credit:Warner Bros Pictures
1. Youth

**Hi, I haven't written anything in a really long time so I'm hoping you will all be gentle with me. The below is just a brief snip into Harley's life before she moved to Gotham. I've already got the first chapter written and will likely post it later on today. Please leave lots of reviews, and don't hesitate to let me know about any typos so I can correct them.**

 **Do i need to disclaim that the characters are not mine? I think that's pretty obvious.**

 **Enjoy.**

 **Prelude**

It was hard to find a reference point for myself, growing up in a home with parents that made no attempt at giving me direction. There were never any congratulations for things I did right and, unless I broke one of my dad's beer bottles or got into my mother's powder, I got no reprimand either. My brother Quincy was my anchor; my earliest memories were of him making me breakfast or giving me baths. He would walk me to daycare then bring me home. We would tell each other stories before going to bed and I would always make him laugh. He would call me his harlequin like the man on TV that was really funny. Life wasn't perfect, but it was good, my brother made sure of it.

He couldn't have been older than 6 when he went missing. There was no explanation and no drama from my parents; when I mentioned his name I was ignored. I must have cried every single day for months after his disappearance; until I realized I needed to figure things out on my own. I did figure it out; I had seen Quincyquin do it all the time. I figured out how to do the laundry, to have my baths, how to use the washroom. The main struggle was food, usually I was lucky and there was fast food lying around but sometimes I had to get creative. I would sneak down to the corner store just across the street and leave a little heavier and a lot less hungry. On the rare occasion I got caught, I would leave with a few bruises as well but that was a small price to pay.

Once father disappeared, when I was 9, life became a bit crazier. Different men milled in and out of the house, each one shadier than the last. Even then I knew what was happening; they were 'exchanging favors' with mother. Mother would do anything for that white powder she kept in her closet; some even made offers for me but that was a bit much for her. That didn't stop them from talking to me, or staring at me or offering to help me bath. I knew I had to be smart and I knew I had to be careful. Life was frightening, hectic, unpredictable and meaningless… until I met Lila.

Lila was a new student in my school; I thought she was beautiful with her dark brown skin, her straight black hair and her chocolate eyes. In no time Lila and I became inseparable, we sat together in class, we ate together at lunch and she introduced me to the gymnastics club at school. Everything seemed to fall in place around her, my home life didn't matter anymore; all that mattered was she and I. I started working illegally when I was 11 so I could take gymnastics classes with her. These were the best years for me and I prayed everyday that nothing would change.

In high school, we met Matt and for a while he was all Lila would talk about. She told me she was in love and when Matt asked her out she slowly started pulling away from me. She stopped going to the gymnastics class, stopped hanging out with me at lunch and didn't seem to want to have anything to do with me. So, on the night of my 15th birthday, I decided to make an unannounced stop at her house. The lights in her house were off so I climbed up through her open window. It didn't take long for me to realize, from the lip smacking and the rustling clothes, that there was someone else in the room with her. Not wanting to disturb them, and not wanting to go home yet, I huddled in the corner of the room and decided to wait them out. When the boy left I'd let her know I was here. I watched in silence as things got really heated and clothes started coming off. I fascinated over Lila, over the whole situation and started feeling a fire burning in the pit of my belly. In a trance, I tried to get closer but I must have tripped… or made a noise because they both flew out of each other's arms and off the bed. In a haze I saw Matt running towards me and there was screaming in the distance then it was as if the world blacked out.

When I came to Matt was on the floor gripping his head; it was gushing thick red blood. Lila was crying, begging me to leave. "Get out you freak! … get the fuck out!"

"He attacked me!" I whispered, "… you saw! He attacked me!" I left crying and she never spoke to me again. I tried calling her, talking to her at school and even meeting her at her house but she didn't want anything to do with me. I felt lost and alone.

It was only a few months later when I met Dylan Wilcox, a psychology professor at NYU, that I felt alive again. I fell in love with Dylan and lost my virginity to him. Our relationship lasted until I received my doctorate and I found out he was cheating on me with an 16-year-old. I realized I needed to get away, not just from Dylan but also from the standard psychiatric career options available to me in Brooklyn. I needed a challenge; I thought I wanted to make a difference and I was smart enough to get a job just about anywhere. So, I applied to an opening at The Elizabeth Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane. As soon as I signed my contract, I barely managed to pack my bags; I ditched my phone and took off like a bat out of hell and right into the open arms of my future.


	2. Boo!

**Chapter 1 as promised.**

 **1**

Stepping out of my black Honda I close the door, set the alarm and stroll along out of the parking lot and towards the front entrance of the Asylum. When I first applied at Arkham, I knew this was no ordinary asylum. That was one of the main reasons I had chosen to make the move from Brooklyn to Gotham. Not only did they house the meanest and most deranged criminals in Gotham, many of these criminals also happened to be metahumans. Eight months later I know, professionally at least, I made the right decision. There is no better facility to get respect and experience as quickly as I can get it here amongst the worst of the worst. On a personal level, however, I feel… adrift. I've no connections left and, no matter how many extracurricular activities I join, I feel apart. I miss Dylan, but there is no going back for me, not ever. I pick up the pace hoping to be able to drown out my thoughts relatively soon with somebody else's problems. At the main doors I fumble with my bag pulling out my keycard to buzz myself in.

As soon as I enter the building I immediately come down with a sense that there is something wrong. Looking around at the drab walls I notice that the reception area is void of people. "Hello?" No response. My footsteps slightly more tentative now I continue past the security checkpoint, which was also deserted, into the main office, through the lunchroom and into my office. There was nobody anywhere.

"Ok then…"

Curious, but still mildly apprehensive, I follow the same path back to security. However, when I get there, instead of continuing past the check point to the right and back outside I turn left and I make my way further into the facility. When I reach the double swinging doors that lead into the patients' sleeping quarters, I push them open. I walk into a long sterile looking hallway with about 10 rooms on either side of the doors. There is always at least one or two employees bustling around here, but today there is no one. Following instinct, I turn to the left and move down the hall noting how loudly my shoes clacked off the shiny floor and bounced off the pale green walls. "The zombies are coming…" I joke to myself. When I reach about half way down the hall I can hear the low hum of voices. I follow the sound and turn right towards the solitary confinement chamber; there is where I see the crowd. A good majority of the scheduled staff is standing around the doorway, stuttering in hushed conversation.

"What on earth?" I ask myself, I inch closer and start picking up on little pockets of conversation.

…Shit, he's back. How many times is it now?

Not sure, but look at his face! The Bat has done a number on him this time, I wish he'd just….

…Oh my God! I can't believe it's actually him! You can practically see the crazy oozing out his pores…

… You realize they're going to have to schedule more security now

Yea, there's going to be about twice the security, because that has stopped him in the past…

… Fuck this! I quit! …

Unable to contain my curiosity I push my way through the small crowd and into the room. The solitary confinement chamber looks like the inside of a large silver box. It's a perfect rectangle with no windows, one metal door, a toilet and a cot. The first thing I notice is in the back of a rather large man, easily over six foot, dressed in what looked like a rubberized black suit, it had a mask with two pointy protrusions on either side of his head and a cape. _A cape!_

 _Jesus! That's Batman!_

He is speaking very gravely to Dr. Jerome Schumer, I can't quite make out what they are saying but it doesn't matter because my eyes are quickly drawn to the stillness on the right of me. A plastic seat was brought into the room and on it there is a man slouching motionless, his legs are splayed out in front of him, his arms sagging limply on either side of the armrests and his head has flopped backwards. _He's dead –_ is my first thought. His clothes look like they used to be expensive, but they aren't anymore. The right sleeve of what was a white dress shirt has been ripped off exposing a smiling mouth tattoo on the side of his forearm and; the rest of his shirt is torn to shreds with thick red blood matted down the front over the buttons. His black dress pants haven't fared any better, they are hanging low on his hips, the bottoms are burnt off and the man's feet are bare and black with soot. I see the first sign of life as his body twitches and his head falls forward, that's when I notice the shocking green of his hair and gruesome bloody mess of his face.

"Oh my God" I hear myself whisper. His face is a disaster; his jaw is hanging slack quite clearly broken or dislocated, his few remaining front teeth shattered to pieces and covered with blood. The blood from his mouth has gushed down his shin and neck onto his shirt. His nose is broken as well, the gush from that dribbling down to meet his split lips. His eyes are swollen almost completely shut and the parts of his face that aren't red with blood are black with bruising.

Suddenly, his whole body lurches forward, his hands lash out to grab my wrists and he yanks me towards him. His ravaged face is now inches from me, my nostrils are filled with the smell his blood, and my stomach heaves warningly. ""Boo!" he whispered, I impulsively yelp and try to pull back. I hear someone yell 'Dr. Quinzel' before he falls into hysterical laughter. Batman yanks me out of his grip and pushes him violently farther back into his seat.

"Oh come on now Bats, don't be like that." He says to Batman "I'm just having some harmless fun." His speech is slurred but I still understand him quite well. Batman doesn't respond, instead he looks directly at Dr. Schumer "He is your patient Schumer, your responsibility. No other doctors and no more breakouts." The Batman looks back at me grimly "What is wrong with you? Keep your distance."

"She's obviously not from around here." my attacker comments. "Don't worry I'll have you broken in – or just broken – in no time darlin'." I stare at him horrified and still morbidly impressed that he is both so vocal, and now so lively, despite his injuries.

I begin to respond to Batman "I- I just figured that he was, you know, unconscious… I mean he's so badly damaged-"

That sends the man into another fit of hysterics; he attempts to say something but can't get the words out and instead leans forward gripping his stomach. I watch as blood splashes on the floor, my extremities tingling, my heart pounding. Finally he manages to stop long enough to force out 'Yea, look what you've done Bats. You damaged me! One second more and I would have won!" I felt the blood drain from my face and my head snap to the patient. _Batman did this?!_

Shaken, I turn to look at Batman only to find that he is gone.

"Guards, take him to solitary." I hear Jerome order.

"What?!" the patient protests as the guards move him bodily towards the door "I just got here! I haven't killed anyone yet!" the crowd parts for them. "Wait! Wait! Can I have Dr. Quinzel? I promise I'll be reeeaalll nice!" he shouts. The laughter that follows echoes down the hallway and leaves an eerie thrill in my stomach.

* * *

The guards informed me they would be taking me to the clinic shortly so the doctors can tend to my injuries; I know its bullshit. The doctors don't want me in their clinic, or around their drugs or their medical instruments; they tend to avoid me all together actually. It may have something to do with them always ending up at the wrong end of a scalpel. They'll have to show up eventually though and I'll likely be strapped up before they will tend to me. All I can do until then is lie here, with my hands behind my head and just wait… I hate waiting; it's so boring.

Boredom, now that is the true punishment of getting caught. I hardly ever get to mingle with the general population anymore, to revel in all the breathtaking chaos of insanity. I usually get slammed into solitary confinement then, when I am finally let out, people wonder why there are casualties. When I am allowed out, though, Arkham is a wonderful place to chill. Flimsy moralities & tenuous civility so easily fall on their heads here, frequently without me having to lift a single finger in the way of help. I can just sit back and watch as these upstanding, humane people unwind into savagery. You want to see the true nature of man? Come spend a week at Arkham where the criminally insane cower in fear of the civilized and morally entrapped people pledged to help them. Come watch psychologists prescribe shock therapy as punishment or, shit, just for fun. Come watch orderlies taunt, beat or – hey, ya even fuck patients when they think nobody is looking. And you know what? If cunt isn't given freely, that's fine, just take it by force. Come watch the stolen pill popping madness and general chaos that churns within these bolted doors. Come one, come all, come see the truth Man tries to hide. I can feel the amusement crawling up inside me and allow myself to snicker a little. I do so love Arkham.

Oh, and speaking of people fucking the patients, how about that Dr. Quinzel?

"Rooooaaaw" I mutter _I wouldn't mind playin' around with that sweet thaaaang._

Wanting to smile I place my hand gently on my face so my smile tattoo is in clear view for the audience behind the security camera on the ceiling. ' _Damaged'_ she had said; she is utterly and completely right, and I have Bats to thank for it. I almost feel bad that my face will eventually heal and he can deny that he was ever so close to proving my point. Then I realize, my face will heal, but that doesn't mean I can't remind him of the damage he's done. I feel an electric shiver run through me and it leaves the sweet bloody taste of victory in my mouth. Gathering up my strength I push myself off the cot and clap at the conclusion of my series of thoughts. I then look up at the surveillance camera in the center of the room and flare my arms widely apart "I require an audience!" I declare, "I have demands!".

The statement is a sort of code to whoever is on my payroll in Arkham. I usually have at least one individual in Arkham on the take, and if I don't currently have one I know Frost will buy one soon enough. It's how I usually organize my escapes and I will eventually breakout; all that crime won't commit itself you know? Right now, however, I really don't want to leave. First I need to get my Damaged face taken care of and then I would like to get to know my sweet little Dr. Toots. If I play my cards right things could end up quite interesting here, even for Arkham standards.


	3. You're Welcome -J

**2**

It's been about 6 weeks since The Joker was left in Arkham's custody and I haven't really heard of much about him since. I know he received medical attention for his injuries when he originally got here. I had to do some nosing around to find out that he had to have his nose realigned and his jaw wired to help the healing process. From what trickled down the grapevine he was extremely compliant when the doctors came in; which, in hindsight, I find very interesting. I mean I didn't really know who he was when I first saw him, but after his outlandish behavior, my curiosity got the better of me. Getting his name from staff was easy; everyone was talking about him and was willing to give me the lowdown. Quite a few were shocked that I didn't know who he is; I had to explain that I'm a new resident of Gotham and haven't really connected with the city news. Getting access to his file is unfortunately impossible; he isn't my patient so the confidentiality clause keeps me from digging through them. I had to resort to Google and boy was that a fountain of information. By all accounts he is, in layman's terms _one insane motherfucker…_ that's what all the sites said, though the tone in which it was said varied drastically. One thing came across quite clearly: this is a man with whom one does not fuck. All that, though, doesn't tell me much about 'why' or 'how'; there is surprisingly very little known about the man he was before he became 'The Joker'.

Drumming my fingers on the steering wheel I stare at the main entrance of Arkham then at the path I usually use to get there; I contemplate absently the nature of the layman's meaning of the word 'insane'. When they use the term 'insane' they usually mean that this person is lacking reasonable thought; what most people don't always realize is that just because something appears to be insane doesn't mean it's unreasonable. I mean, for example, let's say that you see a woman running down the street, screaming nonsensical gibberish and ripping her clothes off frantically. What's your first gut reaction? ' _Wow… that bitch's insane!_ ' But, see, what you may not know is that the woman unknowingly tromped into a colony of fire ants and right now there are hundreds of ants biting the crap out of her. To her yelling, screaming and stripping is perfectly reasonable because she knows she needs to get them off, but until those witnessing her behavior understand why she is doing what she is doing, their only explanation is insane _ **.**_ Asking 'why' and sometimes 'how' is pivotal in understanding the action of others; so is the withholding of judgment as passing judgment shuts down your ability to be sympathetic to another person's 'why' or 'how'. I stop short in my train of thoughts.

 _What am I trying to say? That The Joker's not crazy, maybe he's just misunderstood?_ I laugh a little then … _No just that one shouldn't assume that he is insane…_ I glance at my watch. "Shit!"

I got here 20 minutes early and now I'm 10 minutes late. I jump out my car, lock the door and make my way to the entrance just like I usually do, only a little bit faster. My body rushes through the routines automatically as my mind still mulls over Arkham's most infamous patient. As much as The Joker has been behaving himself I've sensed a rising dread within the staff. They are easily startled and are frequently sent scattering and screaming at the slam of a door only to try to cover it with obviously anxious laughter. None of the doctors, not a one, has yet to mention setting up sessions. I brought this up on the third day of his arrival as patients usually have their first session within 24 hours of admission. I was told then that he was in no physical state to be examined; I sensed it was a load of bull but accepted it. He was in pretty bad shape when I saw him after all. I then asked on the third week after his admission and got a very similar response as well as a reminder that The Joker was Dr. Schumer's patient and none of my concern. The alarm bells at this point were sounding in my head. Finally I brought it up again 2 weeks ago in a regularly appointed staff meeting and the response was less than enthusiastic. At the mere mention of The Joker, the room quieted and our meeting quickly ended. When I was left alone with Schumer and he fed me the same horseshit story that he'd been feeding me for the past five weeks I offered to take The Joker on. Dr. Schumer quite rudely told me that I needed to mind my own business, that The Joker would be seen when Dr. Schumer was good and ready and that if I wanted to get anywhere with my career here at Arkham I needed to 'RESPECT HIS AUTHORITAH!' So naturally, I saw him die about 30 different ways in my head before I turned around and marched out of there in murderous silence.

"Señorita Quinzel!"

Snapping out of my thoughts for the second time today I look over at the voice and spot Mrs. Cuevas walking towards me "Good Morning Mrs. Cuevas." Mrs Paola Cuevas is the senior intake councilor at Arkham and resident Gossip Queen.

"Dios Mio Señorita Quinzel, I thought you wouldn't come in this morning." she says in her lilting Ecuadorian accent. She is in her late 40s to early 50s and still quite beautiful. I'm sure she broke many hearts in her youth.

"No, I'm just a little late, is there a new patient's file you wanted me to l-"

"Oh, I thought you knew and you quit… it wouldn't be the first time that's happened." I look at her more than a little perplexed; I figure it shows on my face because she speaks in a rush:

"TheJoker'sfileisonyourtable. Itwasn'tmyideaI'msorry." It takes me a second to parse out what she's saying then a flash of fire whips through me and leaves me dizzy. I may have swayed a little because Mrs. Garcia's hand shoots out and grabs my arm to stabilize me. Clearly misinterpreting my response she repeats, "I'm so sorry."

"It's perfectly fine, this is my job." I reassure her as stoically as possible, but inside my chest I can feel my heart hammering.

"You can push back you know, that jerk Jerome is the senior psychiatrist in the building. He should be responsible for the hard knock cases; The Batman also insisted that The Joker be his responsibility."

Smiling comfortingly I place both my hands on her shoulders "I'm a big girl Paola, you don't have to worry about me."

I can sense her eyes roving over my features, then exhaling she places her hand on my cheek "Godbless & good luck Dr. Quinzel."

"Please call me Harleen." She nods then bustles away allowing me to hurry, as discreetly as one can rush, to my office.

When I get into my office, I close the door serenely then pitch my handbag on the visitor's chair violently and scramble to the blue file sitting in front of my computer. I realize I'm overly excited about this patient but can't seem to squash my budding fascination with the case. I feel like I'm about to get my hands on the juiciest of all juicy fruits.

Plunking myself down on my black chair I grab the file in both hands and observe it quietly for a second. Then I peel the file open, the very first thing I see is a purple sticky note with the words 'You're welcome –J" scribbled on it. I rolled my eyes thinking that Jerome had thought he would 'do me a favor' when he was just avoiding the patient. Ripping the sticky note off the file, I crunch it up and throw it in the garbage under my desk.

Taking the sticky note off has revealed the image of the man; green hair slicked back, pale oval face, mocking red lips and sharp blue eyes.

 _Probably the only part of his body left without of tattoos_ I think to myself.

To the left of the image in the patient's name section was 'The Joker' then in brackets 'also responds to Clown Prince (of Crime), Jester of Genocide, Harlequin of Hate, Ace of Knaves'. Clearly he filled the form out himself. I chuckle a little at the absurdity of it then my eyes move back to study the picture of him again. This is the best likeness I've seen of him yet; I couldn't tell much of his features when we first met and pictures online were not very clear. They were either blurry security camera videos, or shaky cellphone videos. Looking at him now I can see that he is actually rather attractive, despite the no eyebrows look. Dragging my gaze away I flipped the page over to view a document we received from GCPD. There was a list that started about half way down the page that I start reading: Robbery, theft, grand theft, arson, assault, assault with a deadly weapon, forgery, extortion, racketeering, money laundering, drug possession, drug trafficking, kidnapping, solicitation, vandalism, terrorism, attempted rape, coercion, homicide, double homicide, triple homicide and the list goes on.

"Jesus Christ!" I rub my eyes underneath my glasses "Well… I asked for it." then pick up my pen, open up my notepad and delve back in.

* * *

My cell door bangs open, the sound is like a gunshot in the room. I stay immobile sitting on the edge of my cot; my cuffed hands are dangling down between my legs and my head is bent forward.

"Ooohhh, can I go outside and play with the others mummy?" I mumble, "I have been a very good boy."

There is no response so I tilt my head and fix my eyes on the figure in the doorway. "Aah, Dr. Tooth, I thought you were someone else." When the dentist didn't move I jiggle my hands in the air to show him my cuffs "Please come in, didn't you know? I've been defanged." I laugh. Dr. Tooth doesn't say anything and he doesn't crack a smile either but he moves into the room.

" My name is Dr. Toph, Joker. Now lie down and shut up." He gestured for me to lie down on the cot. I follow his instruction stretching my legs out until they dangle over the edge of the cot and placing my hands on my naked chest. He's been getting increasingly rude with each one of his visits, which I have diagnosed as a symptom of my compliance. You stop threatening peoples' lives and they start forgetting who you are. I watch as he picks a box of purple latex gloves out of his bag & places it on the cot.

" I like your gloves D-"

"You know why I chose this profession? " He interrupts "because I'd rather stick my hand down a guy's throat than hear him flapping his lips and making noise."

"Hahahahaha, well that's a surprise, I'd never have thought we'd have anything in common." I smile wide showing him my new silver chompers. "All though I think if I stick my hand down your throat you may make noise… kind of like squeaky wheezing sound." I demonstrate the noise "We should try it out, it'll be fun."

I see the color drain from his face and for once he says nothing.

"Open wide." Dr. Tooth orders a little less snidely.

"Why Doctor!" I bat my eyelashes at him "I never knew!" When I oblige I feel him poking around in my mouth. It doesn't take long before he pulls his gloves off.

"Looks good." He approves taking his gloves off.

"Doctor, before you go I have to ask, do you know what the dentist said to the criminal?" I see him roll his eyes. "N-" when he leans in to pick up the box I lunge forward head-butting him, I feel his blood gush down my forehead and see him fall awkwardly back onto the floor. He's yelling incomprehensibly at first but then manages to scream "You son of a bitch! I… I think you broke my tooth!" His mouth is dribbling blood. I hear pounding feet coming towards my cell. I get up off my cot quickly using my legs to push the box of purple gloves on he floor, then pushing it under the cot when my legs hit the floor...

 _Aaaaah it's the little things in life_ ….

Dr. Tooth is laying on his side his left cheek on the ground, bleeding and jabbering. I smile widely as I walk over to him; I kneel beside him placing my cheek on the ground with my hands on my stomach.

"Hahahahahaha... Well, I was thinking more along the lines of 'Oh my God you broke my nose' but I agree with you doctor that's much more appropriate."

The guards' push the door open and I greet them with a "What took you so long? I could have squashed his brains out by now." They begin to half carry, half drag Dr. Tooth out of my cell.

 _Wimp…_

I hear the door closing behind me "By the way, thanks for the new chompers Doc. I love them. Hahahahhahaha…"


	4. Are you deadly Doctor?

3

When I get into the small grey room for my first session with The Joker the maelstrom of professional interest, curiosity, excitement and almost lethal dose of fear is leaving me breathless. Drumming my fingers on his file, I glance at my watch before opening the documents and reading over them.

 _You can't go into this scared Harleen, people like The Joker have a hard on for fear…_ I coach myself - _they can smell it a mile away and when they do they seek and destr-_ CLANK!

The metal door bangs open interrupting my thoughts and nearly sending me 3 feet in the air. In an attempt to look nonchalant I focus on setting up my digital voice recorder only glancing up briefly to thank the guards before they leave. I let the silence in the room build as he sits there, the chains around his hands clattering only slightly with his minimal movements. I want the silence to build, to make him uncomfortable because I need to assert control. Control was key with people like The Joker.

Moving my attention from the recorder I flip a page over in his file and re-read an already examined section. The building stillness dies abruptly when laughter explodes into the room. This time I do jump in my seat and my head snaps up; he is looking right at me. The sound he's making isn't quite right; it's caricature of what it's supposed to be; it's laughter made grotesque. The laughter drew on with such intensity that his limbs shake and his body falls back into the cold metal chair helplessly. I watch, aware that this type of outburst is common for him, but still unnerved by it. When he finally gets it under control he leans forward.

"Wow… I just got this intense feeling of déjà vu. You know doctor; I think I may have done this before " Trying desperately to hide my unease "You've done what before?" I respond.

" This…" he gestures to me then himself and then the room. "I've done _this_ before."

… _Well there goes trying to assert control …_

"Yes, I'm well aware of your past admittances to Arkham." I tap his file.

"So, why are you trying to play mind games with me?" placing his finger tips on the table he leans forward a little and tilts his head to the side "How 'bout we don't play games with each other doc? I have a tendency of winning mind games and believe me you don't want to lose."

I feel a shocking thrill run through my body, which I squash immediately.

I stay silent reflecting a little "You are obviously a smart man Mister Joker… and an observant one at that, I apologize. " His files indicated he is narcissistic, often ego stroking helps to make narcissists biddable.

"Ahahahahaa, so polite Doctor…So sweet. But flattery will get you nowhere. " He looks at my name tag squinting slightly to read the small writing "Dr. Harleen Quinzel, Psychiatrist." He looks back at me "Beautiful and smart; if only you were deadly. I love beautiful, smart and deadly it gives me a hard on every time."

"That was pathetic, is that supposed to be a come on?"

He bursts out loudly with laughter then stops abruptly, his eyes narrow. He angles forward, his lean body pushes up against the metal table. His hands, joined by the shackles on his wrists that were bolted into the floor, splay flat on the table just inches from his chest.

"I don't know, are you deadly Doctor?"

Our eyes lock, my breath catches and there is an explosion of butterflies in my belly. Something in the room shifts and I feel myself drawn deeper into his eyes, cold blue eyes that betray a calculating intelligence. Seeming to find what he's looking for in me he sits back, unblinking, face neutral then he tilts his head and smiles with such deviance and threat that my body instinctively lurches away from him. I swallow thickly feeling the heat of his scrutiny on my cheeks "N-not p-particularly…" I've never thought of myself as deadly even though I have been taking self-defense almost as long as I have been taking gymnastics. With his eyes on me I can't bring myself to say anything else even though I want to. Why should I? I've got nothing to prove. Confused by the butterflies still jittering around in my stomach I tug at my shirt lightly and notice his eyes drop from my face to the newly exposed skin just above my chest.

"Mmmmmm… " His eyes half close when they drift back up to my face "You really are rather stunning. Tell me, what is a place like this doing around a girl like you, hmmm?"

"I'm here to help you -" I feel a bout of confidence coming back to me despite his low chuckle. I keep silent through it then once it's ended "Why's that funny?"

"It's funny Doctor because _I'm_ going to help _you_."

"I don't need your help Mr. Joker and you are in no position to help anyone anyway."

"It would seem so to you but that is, really, just based on perspective. Perspective, perspective, perspective is an interesting thing… Tell me Doctor do you know how many psychiatrists I've been assigned to here at Arkham?"

"Yes, 11… Are you going to ask me if I know how many of them are dead? Because I have the answer to that as well."

"Really? And what is that number?"

"Six are dead killed right here in Arkham, one is in a coma, three of them are missing and assumed dead and one is alive living under protective custody."

He smiles wide, silver teeth glinting "And yet here you are, willingly too if I'm reading you correctly. Do you know what that tells me?" I shake my head "Two things:" He lifts his index finger up with his wrist still on the table **"** one you must be deadlier…or crazier than you let on," he lifts up his middle finger as well "and two you've got a fat pair of balls hidden in that tight little dress."

I can't help my snort of laughter; his eyes linger on my twitching lips then come to my eyes.

"And you've got a sense of humor. Your future is looking very bright."

"Mr. Joker, can you tell me why you think you are here?" I ask in an attempt at redirecting the conversation.

"Boooooorrrrriiiiiiinnnnngggggg."

"I can't help you if you keep avoid-"

"You remind me of a little kitten pawing at the wagging tail of her daddy. You aren't oblivious to the danger though darling, but I think you might be drawn to it. Tell me am I your daddy? Are you my little p-"

"I'm not your little pussy!" I snap; I blush immediately afterwards, appalled at the choice of words.

He laughs at that, and then stops to examine me. We sit in silence for a long time, his eyes wander over me, my hair, my face, my glasses, my eyes, my bust, my blue dress, my arms then back up to my eyes again. We sit for what feels like forever and by the time he's done scrutinizing me I feel naked and raw in front of him. His eyes are so feral, shinning so brightly with predatory intelligence that my breath comes out in gusts and I break out in goose bumps.

"I rather like you Dr. Quinzel," He says finally. "I find you…indecently" he tilts his head quickly side to side as if looking for the right word " …clean. And I do so love dirtying things up."

"I'd like to perform an exercise with you." My voice is flat, refusing to give in to his taunting.

He breaks out into a grin "I'd loooovveee to perform an exercise with you." The innuendo is clear.

I lift his file up and pull out a series of 4x4 cards I'd hidden beneath it. There are a total of 10 of them, each with a different pattern of inkblots. I pull the first card up and flip it over for him to see. He stares at it in silence then leans to the side so he can see past the card and to me "Not the exercise I was thinking of doctor. Are you trying to piss me off?"

I exhale sharply and place the card down.

 _I tried to assert control and that went over about as well as a fart in church. Flattery didn't help; I'm just going to stick with honesty._

"Believe me, I didn't want to use these but you aren't giving me much to work with. I really, _really_ " I stress the word "want to help you and to do that I need information from you. Please help me, so I can help you."

"God, you are perfect." He leans forward and stretches his hands across the table towards mine but the chains become taut when he reaches about half way. He places his hands flat on the table and partially stands out of his chair so his weight is on them. I don't move away from him, some shadowy part of me is finding it hard to.

"Mmm Dr. Quinzel, I will make you an offer I haven't made anybody else."

"Yes?" I encourage gently.

"I'll talk for you doctor, but I'm going to need incentive. Just a little favor, nothing you can't handle."

"I'm not going to have sex with you." I say flatly, my heart pounding faster at the words. He smiles at me widely "I wouldn't dare assume that you would so easily, but we'll get there."

"Alright," I again ignore the tail end of his sentence "What's the incentive?"

"The Circus."

"What?"

"Reach into my pocket, pumpkin." I eye him suspiciously "I promise not to kill you." He assures.

Curling his shoulders inward he puts his head down at an angle. I tentatively slide two fingers into his front breast pocket and pull out a card. It's a joker card, on top of its skull head is a red cap'n'bells and his eyes are crossed out. I look back at The Joker, until now his Arkham jumpsuit was covering his whole body so I haven't seen any tattoos like the one I saw when we first met. With his body at this angle I can see past the collar of his jumpsuit to a tattoo of aces on his neck and left shoulder; his skin is oddly pale and it's damp. He's obviously hot, I don't know why I didn't think about it before, even I can feel the heat and I'm wearing a dress. He lifts his head up and he catches me staring but does nothing other than stare back intensely.

"Go to The Circus. Ask for Frost at the door and give him that card."

"I don't think so, do I look like I want to die?"

"If I wanted you dead I could have killed you when you leaned over to take that card."

"Then what?"

"Then nothing. You leave, you stay that's your business."

"…ok…."

"That's a good doctor. If you perform, so will I." He puts more weight on his left hand and sticks out his right in offer of a handshake. I hesitate and I feel my hands trembling but he waits patiently for me, hand outstretched. I reach for him and our hands clasp, his is warm, strong and steady with the sureness of a man who knows he'll get what he wants. Mine quivers slightly, the danger coursing though me. We shake once, then I pull my hand away conscious of how he lets my fingers slide through his.

I glance at my watch to break off the eye contact and am shocked to see his session has been over for 10 minutes. "Looks like our time's up."

"Aaaw, already?" he pouts.

"Time flies when you're having fun." I jibe and he grins at me. As I walk towards the doors I continue, "By the way Mr. Joker I'm glad you are doing well. You look much better than you did the last time I saw you."

He pushes up to stretch to his full height, clasps his hands and lets his arms fall down in front of him "Mmmm. Dr. Quinzel," I stop at the door but don't turn around "You may wanna go in disguise."

With that I push the handle of the door down throwing a "We're done." to the guards before heading back to my office.


	5. Harlequin

**Thanks so much for the likes & follows & review. Let me know if you feel the story is moving too slowly. I could try to speed it up, I just don't want to throw the two characters together without laying some groundwork first. Also if you have any writing advice (spot any typos) or story advice please advise away... I make no promises because I already have an idea of what I want to do but I'll listen and keep it in mind.  
**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 **4  
**

I can see the doctor standing there quivering by the door; you see the doctor doesn't like to come in here. You think maybe I'm talking about my favorite little blond Dr. with the denial problem (yes I've noticed that), you would be mistaken I'm not talking about my pumpkin. I'm talking about the other, less compelling doctor. Doctor, what is it, Schumer? Yes, him. He's a little skittish granted, but he's also rather helpful. You see I asked him to pass over my file, and did he? Yes, yes he did. He was even kind enough to include my little note. I asked him to get me a dentist (that poor toothless bastard) and he did didn't he? I want something else now…

I want. I want. I want.

I think we can all agree that the world is full of wants and needs that people don't act on, they trap themselves in insipid moral codes based on the uninspired dichotomy of acceptable versus unacceptable, right versus wrong, good versus evil, love versus hate…Batman versus Joker. Really all these are but arbitrary rules that people, denying the truth, place on themselves to drown out the reality of life. As there is no god (which my existence can attest to); then Life in all its wonder, all its beauty, all its horror and all its mysteries is the greatest of cosmic oopsies. It holds no meaning and if there is no meaning then what we do or what we feel in the here and now simply **does not matter**. If I love you I might as well hate you, if I need you I might as well kill you, if I laugh I might as well cry (or just keep on laughing, whichever comes first).

Unfortunately, the majority of the human race are brainless automatons, marching around subjecting themselves to the morality of a world trying to forge reason from insignificance. Then, there are the few, those who are ahead of the curve, those who see the world for what it is (a fucking joke), and deal with it differently. Some of us run around in black spandex (Yes, I'm looking at you Batsy) trying to will righteousness into a world void of it, some accept the meaninglessness and revel in the freedom of chaos (yours truly obviously)… others like, I suspect, my dear sweet Doctor Harleen Quinzel (HarleeeenQuinzel, HarleeeQuin, Harlequin? Hahahaha) have tasted futility; it has left them oscillating on the brink between chaos and captivity. Some little nagging feeling tells me, with my little Harlequin, I need not push to watch gravity pull her to madness I just need to open my arms, stand back and watch her fall.

"I want a file on Dr. Quinzel" I'm lying on the floor, the tiles radiating cold into my bare back. I've not bothered to look at the doctor since he walked in. I know he hasn't moved from the closed door.

"Yes, Mister Joker."

"I want her whole history, I want nothing left out… make sure you tell JonnieJonnie."

"Mr. Frost is frightening my wife and children I beg you I'll do whatever you want just leave them alone."

"Yes, yes run along." He turns quickly to leave "Oh, just one more thing."

"Yes Mr. Joker?"

"When you see Dr. Qunizel, you had best let her know how much you _want_ her _._ She had best be uncomfortable when you're done."

"What? Why?!"

"Why?" I laugh hysterically as I push myself off the floor and make my way to him "You never grow out of it do you? You run around as children asking your parents why this, why that. Why why why. You grow up and you do the same thing only instead of asking about the birds and the bees you run to your churches and ask an absent _Father_ why you are here." When I reach him I put my hands around his head and lean in, caging him against the wall, the thick putrid stench of his sweat overwhelms me. "I'll be your _Father_ Dr. Schumer, I'll tell you why: because it fucking pleases me!"

* * *

I've been staring at myself for the past two hours wondering if I've totally lost my mind. I'm stuck in a cycle of yes then no, on then off, I walk to the door then I sit down again. What should I do? I know the answer to that, it's pretty obvious, I need to put my sorry ass back in bed and go to sleep. Yes I should, but I know that's not going to work because I haven't been able to sleep for the past three days. Normally I'll go to the dojo or head to the gymnastics class I teach and I'm so exhausted when I get home that I'm asleep before my head hits the pillow. Not the case recently, I lie down, close my eyes and try to will the sleep to come but all I see is that damn joker card spinning around like a top in my head. I end up dragging myself out of bed pouring a cup of coffee and spending my evening doing research on the joker.

One of the first things I looked up was The Circus, which is in fact not a circus; it's an exclusive, invite only nightclub. The only nightclub in Gotham that the most affluent bump shoulders regardless of if they come from old money, new money or blood money. It is notoriously violent, if 5 people die there in a year that would be a good year; yet it's alarmingly popular. The icing on the cake is that The Circus is rumored to be owned by Gotham's one and only pale skinned, green haired jester. The curiosity is mind numbing, I am dying to go… because if I do go then he'll cooperate and that's really all I want. I had decided not to go though, even before I had that little tidbit of information.

My resolution wavered the following Friday during my trip to the Center Mall when I saw it sitting in the window, it was black & red and pretty and I knew I had to have it. It was perfect. I had no control of my feet when they moved me into the store, or my hands when they purchased the harlequin costume. It reminded me of my brother and that was the only reason I got it; but I also now have an outfit to wear to The Circus. He did say I'd need a disguise.

So, Saturday evening, I'm standing here in my new outfit staring at my front door. If I'm honest with myself, to go or not to go isn't really the question anymore. How the fuck do I stop myself from going; that is the real question.

* * *

It is a rather loud building with flashing lights and a mass of people standing in a line right down the sidewalk and around the corner. These are the people who will not get in, the ones without an invitation. I jostle past them, feeling rather at home amongst the masquerading throng, I make my way towards the two very large men barring the entrance of the club.

"Hey! Hey! I yell reaching into the side of my bra, where I'd stuffed the Joker card. They ignore me; I am just one in the mass. Jumping up I wave the card in front of them "Hey! H-"

One of them grabs my arm, which he uses to yank me forward. The action is unexpected and I trip awkwardly as he maneuvers me out of the crowd; He leaves me there and disappears, card in hand, into the club.

When he reappears he has a very well dressed, good-looking man in tow.

"Where did you get this?" he asks curtly

"Mr. Joker told me to give that to Frost."

"You got this from Mr. J?" he's watching me, expressionless, his posture perfect.

"Um… yea?" He gives me a very thorough once over then enters the club. I think that's it but he keeps the door open for me.

"You coming?" he asks when I don't move.

"Do I have a choice?"

"If you didn't I wouldn't have asked. Are you coming?"

 _This is it Harleen. This is all you have to do. Turn around and go back now. Go home. You don't belong here._

In my bones I know he would want me to go in, that's why he gave me the card. This is some kind of t-

"Yea." The word is out of my mouth before I can stop myself. I follow Frost in.

"The card, its all access to the club. If you want to relax, there is a private lounge in the back. Scan your card face down to get in. You won't be disturbed there."

When I step in I understand why it's called The Circus, it's like stepping into a pit of nameless/faceless debauchery. There is everything from rides to pools to clusters of cavorting people twisting to music. That card gives me full run of the place and I have a blast… When I'm finally exhausted I skitter off to the back room, it's empty as Frost promised it would be and I throw myself on a couch in exhaustion. My eyes drift closed and I'm lost in sleep.

I wake up when a pair of strong hands take hold of my legs and yank them apart. I scramble up right kicking frantically at them, my vision is blurred and for a second I'm completely disoriented. I barely have enough time to get my bearings before the hands are on me again.

"Hold her arms. I'm gonna give dis bitch a reaming." The words send electricity through my body and when I kick my legs out this time, the action is deadly precise. The kick lands on the masked man's throat, I hear a crunch then he drops back knocking a table over on his way to the floor. I try to stand up but I feel another man grab the back of my hair, pain shoots down my neck and into my arms when he jerks my head backwards so I can see his face. Only I don't see his face; he's wearing a mask; a _joker_ mask.

I feel betrayal slice through me like a white-hot poker. Instinctively I make a V with my fingers and shoot them out like a punch towards his eyeholes. I feel a warm squishy mess coat my hand before Mr. Joker Mask knocks me back in an attempt to flee my strike. Whirling around to check my surroundings I see my first attacker is recovering, I bend over calmly picking from the floor a heavy candleholder, and smash him over the head with it. The furry is overwhelming and when the man falls on the floor helplessly I still have some left over.

Turning back to Mr. Joker Mask, who is still bent over gripping his face and wailing in agony, I smash him over the head with it as well. He falls forward on his knees so I ditch the candleholder grab his collar and follow through with a series of punches to the face. I hear a noise behind me but its so far way. I keep punching in a fit of rage when suddenly:

"Hey! Harlequin! Cut it out!" I Jerk up to face the voice and I recognize Frost through my haze of fury. I open my mouth to correct him, to tell him my name is Harleen not Harlequin but nothing comes out; instead my eyes take in the damage in the room. The two men are on the floor covered in blood, clearly alive, but in very bad shape…. Both obviously disfigured, very probably near death.

 _Harleen didn't do this…Harleen couldn't do this! Who did this? Who am I?_

"Harlequin?" Frost surveys the room unflinchingly. Taking in the gore with the ease of a man who's seen it all before; which he probably has considering who he works for.

Without saying a word, I walk past him and leave the club. He doesn't need help with those two, he's obviously dealt with a lot worse. When I get home I tear my outfit to shreds (which does nothing other than give me the tactile pleasure of destruction) and tumble into bed. Surprisingly, despite my fury, I do fall asleep and I sleep very well.

* * *

I'm trying to tell myself its just another day on the job, but I can still feel the anger bubbling under the surface. I'm sitting in my office my hands wrapped around a mug of coffee.

"Harleen," Dr Schumer walks into my office and closes the door behind him "How was the session with Joker?"

" Well, I'm still alive so good I guess." He stands at the door silently, looking a bit awkward. Then moving slowly away from the door he makes his way towards me.

"You know Harleen" he puts a hand on my shoulder and I immediately stiffen "If you ever need any help… or any advice about the patient" He drags his hand down my arm and I immediately stand up and back away from him.

"Dr. Schumer, please, I don't need any help with the patient." Anger forgotten and all of a sudden unsure of how to act I back away from him and move towards the door.

"Are you sure? I'd be glad to help in any-"

"Once again, I appreciate the offer. But I'm extremely busy and I really have to get to it. " He looks uneasy again then, squeezing the bridge of his nose he turns to go.

"Doctor, be careful around Joker. That man has got a demon in him."

"I'd appreciate if you don't throw your superstitions at me Dr. Schumer."

"Just be careful, alright?"

"Yes, of course." I watch him walk out my office in confused silence.

Feeling slightly thrown by Schumer's odd behavior I wait a few minutes before following out the door. Speaking of demons… I have a session to get to.


	6. I don't pull my punches

**Chapter 5 is a bit early, I actually wanted to get this one out yesterday but I couldn't get the Joker to cooperate when I was writing the last two pages. I also hate myself right now for choosing to write in the present tense... fml. Eh, anyway, hope you enjoy! Thanks to all for the reviews, follows & favs. You da best!  
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 **5**

By the time I reach the examination room Joker is already sitting there with his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped. He makes no movement as I sit at the table in front of him but I can feel his eyes on me like lasers on my skin. I slap his file on the table violently and then, remembering that I need to remain professional, I place my cup of coffee and voice recorder down much more calmly.

"Is something wrong Dr. Toots, you seem upset." My grip on the coffee mug tightens reflexively and I spit out at him "Don't call me Dr. Toots, show some respect!"

"Oh well, we are definitely upset today." He smirks at me "Whatever could have happened?" Refusing to be drawn in again by his goading I hit the record button to start the session **.**

"We had an agreement Mr. Joker." The statement makes me feel very stupid suddenly. I made an agreement with the Joker? He set me up, _obviously_ , I don't know how; but it's a given that when he's thrown in here he doesn't lose contact with the outside world. Knowing that, am I still expecting him to hold true to his word?

"We did." He responds, giving nothing away.

"Are you going to keep your word?" I don't even have proof that I went; he could tell me he doesn't believe me. He could just renege on the account that he is an asshole. I look him right in the eyes, dreading the answer that I sense I'm going to get.

He smiles widely "Of course Doctor." I stare at him incredulously "Really?"

"Oh, don't look at me like that, working girls need to get paid to. And you worked so hard for it." I feel a flash of heat in my cheeks. Without thinking I grab hold of my steaming coffee and pitch it in his face. He tilts his head back, laughing hysterically, despite the scolding liquid dripping into his eyes, down his cheeks and over his lips.

"I trusted you!" I snap at him unthinking then reach over and slap the switch on the recorder to the 'off' position "You fucking bastard! We had a deal! You lied to me." He's still chuckling as he wipes his face on his shoulder and upper arm; his lips and eyes look redder than they did before but other than that he doesn't look angry, just amused.

"Don't be angry, I didn't lie to you." He wiggles in his seat still slightly hunched over "You _are_ fun Dr. Quinzel and I meant it when I said that I don't want you dead. " He leans forward conspiratorially "I was doing you a favor, you see, I know what you really want even if you don't."

My heart is pounding ridiculously fast I'm not sure if it's from exhilaration or fear but whatever it is it's got a glaze of anger. "And what is it you think I want?"

"Liberation. " He sits up and mimics a flying bird with his shackled hands "That card, that card, it was like a carrot on a stick and you just had to reach for it. It was a big silver moon in a deep dark night, it was a beam of light shining through a pitch black cave, it was a candle flickering at the end of a long tunnel –"

"So you figured you would just snuff it out?"

"Snuff it out?" he shakes his head "No, my darling doctor, I wanna watch you set your world on fire. It would be beautiful."

My anger flares "Lies!" I realize that he's inciting me into an argument. I realize that I need to remove myself from the situation; I realize that I need to get out of his headspace but he's like gravity. "This was about your misogyny!"

"Well that's offensive, I'm not a misogynist! I'm not lyi-. "

"Offen- are you kidding me! That's offensive? What about that woman you tried to rape?" I smack his his file on his chest "That isn't offensive? You beat her half to death! **That** isn't offensive!"

He waves his file off "Now that attempted rape thing was a complete lie. I mean really, she looked like a cross between a possum and a hyena. I have standards."

"Stop lying to m-"

"Stop telling me I'm lying!" He explodes; I hadn't realized I'd been standing up until I drop down into my seat. The door slams open and Graham rushes in, his tranquilizer gun trained on Joker. "Is everything alright Dr. Quinzel?"

"I hope you've got enough in there for a small horse because, if you don't, it won't work and I will use that gun to fuck you slowly." I see Graham flinch and his steady aim quivers.

Embarrassed and wondering just how much was heard outside the door I attempt to smile reassuringly "It's alright. I'm fine."

"That's right. Butt out! You're interrupting _Gray-ham_." Joker adds. We both sit in silence until Graham is out the door and it closes securely behind him.

"So you are telling me that you didn't try to rape that woman." My voice is lower this time "Ok, let's say I accept that. Are you going to try to sell that you didn't beat

her either?"

"No pumpkin, I did beat that woman and, make no mistake, if I do beat a woman I don't pull my punches. I'm just saying it's got nothing to do with misogyny. I just have a general disdain for all human beings, men and women alike." He states it so plainly, so matter-of-factly, that I have a hard time processing it for a second.

"Let's talk about what this is actually about, though, Dr. Quinzel. This is about you, an outrageously sexy costume, and a single unfortunate event."

"You set me up. I could have been killed."

He rolls his eyes at me "Are you not listening? I don't want you dead. That would be much too boring, you're much more fun alive." He smiles widely at me "If I'm honest, I didn't plan for you to get raped," he shrugs "I just asked my two buddies to show up." He stops and studies my face as if looking for some tell then he starts laughing.

"Don't you get it darling? Can't you see how funny that is?"

I feel a blackness come over me, it makes me want to laugh but I just smile "Yea, Mr. Joker. I can see how that's funny." I respond calmly. I honestly _can_ see, he didn't fuck anyone over; he just put everything in place and waited patiently for the universe to do the rest.

"I have something funny to show you too. Wanna see?" I hear myself saying.

"Oh, oh yes please." he responds.

"Guards!"

* * *

I had another visit from the doctor this morning; he came bearing a gift from JonnieJonnie. He placed a promising red file in my hand and when I cracked it open all her secrets (the dirty little things) came spilling out onto the floor like chunks of grey matter from a cracked skull. I was right, you see, the past **is** a chaotic place for my dear sweet Dr. Quinzel. How interesting that she has picked a career that keeps close company with chaos, but still stands apart from it. She wears her regimen and control like a black mask (wink wink) but it hasn't taken long for it to begin slipping. It's too bad, really, that I already have an obsession because I'd be sorely tempted to make her my new one. I guess she can be (at least while I'm in here); she is proving to be fun if nothing else.

I haven't been able to take my eyes off her since she stormed into the room earlier. She was trying so hard to keep the anger under control, it didn't work of course, control is such a tenuous thing. I continue to eye her now walking stiffly ahead of me; her tight pink skirt and white shear blouse are both tugging and shifting in all the right places.

Very nice…

It's been awhile for me; in a world with so much potential for havoc who has time for the opposite sex? Women are soo demanding (nag nag nag), so emotional (drama drama drama) so distracting (sex sex sex) that I tend to just shoot them before they can get any funny ideas. Sure I notice them; I'm insane (or so I've been told) not blind! Yes I'll flirt, but the joke's on you sista because my mind's already moved on to much battier things (get it? hahahaha). I was beginning to think that somewhere along the way to my rebirth I'd lost interest in the act altogether. You can imagine my surprise when, looking through images of Dr. Quinzel's gymnastic competitions, I discovered a rather large tent in my pants (IT'S ALIVE!). Life's full of wonderful (and not so wonderful) surprises... speaking of which:

"Dr. Quinzel, I recognize this hallway."

"You do?" She feigns disbelief; her hips continue to sway as she marches ahead of me. _Gray-ham_ and another guard follow closely behind us, guns at the ready.

"You would Mister Joker." she continues then takes the few remaining steps forward and opens the door to the room at the end of the hall "you see," she says opening the door wide for me "I don't pull my punches either."

I stroll in behind her and glance around. Remember what I told you about doctors prescribing shock therapy?

I laugh wildly "Dr. Quinzel! I knew you had it in you!" She doesn't look at me; she doesn't respond either. I can see the anger still coming off of her in waves.

"Strap him down." She orders the guards.

"Woooo!" I yell, exhilarated by the turn of events.

"Doctor, are you sure? I mean-" Gray-ham starts.

"Yes, yes she's sure!" I acknowledge for her. You may be thinking right about now that I must be a little masochistic, I assure you I'm not. Not per se anyway. It's just such an upset, such complete disregard of all morality that I can't help but want her to follow through.

"Strap him down!" she insists and I saunter over to the gurney where I lie down happily. I watch as the guards put the restraints on, quite disappointed that the doctor isn't doing it herself. Then she gestures for the guards to leave, I can see Gray-ham (that meddling buffoon) begin to speak to her quietly, most likely trying to convince her not to follow through.

"Out!" I explode making them both jump; he scuttles out pretty quickly after that.

She doesn't look at me as she puts on medical gloves (just plain white ones, not purple ones insert sad face ), or when she wheels the electroconvulsive machine towards me. I can tell her anger is waning, her eyes aren't sparking as much and when she hovers over me she hesitates.

"Don't you dare stop now doctor." I whisper. She leans forward, I spoke too softly and I know she can't hear me. Placing both hands on either side of my head she bends forward, bringing her head closer to mine.

"It's my fault doctor" I comfort her "I brought this on myself, I can take the blame for it. Don't you worry, just do it. None of this is your fault. You just need to prove a point, what happened at the club was not all right. Do it doctor." She's so close to me now that I can feel her fast breathing on my face. I lunge forward and our lips connect. She's soft, moist and warm; all the lovely things I remember about women. Her trembling lips open instinctively to me then she jerks away in surprise.

I smile wide at her "Mmm Doctor, my friends would have had a field day with you." Then I start laughing. Just like that the rage is back, flashing fire in her eyes.

"Hardihar, motherfucker!" me spits shoving a mouth guard between my teeth, she forgoes the anesthetic injection (wouldn't have worked anyway) lying on the table beside her and places the two rods on either of my temples.

The pain is indescribable, I start laughing and –

The lights are too bright when I come to and I'm not sure where I am.

"How are you feeling?" a woman's voice, I look towards her. Blond hair, blue eyes, nice bust, very pretty…Dr. Quinzel.

"Like I just had 250 volts pinging through my brain." My mind is decidedly lethargic and I'm finding it very unpleasant.

"God, that was insane." She whispers, I'm sure she was talking to herself.

"In a mad mad world darlin' the only sane response is insanity." I mumble back to her.

"I'm truly very sorry Mister Joker. I will have another doctor take over your file going forward."

"No, I'll kill anyone else. I promise you that." She's lingering at the door, I can hear her there but I can't see her. The lights are causing bursts of agony behind my eyes and I can't bear to keep them open.

"I'll get you painkillers." She promises.

"Don't bother, they won't work." There is silence for a few seconds and then I hear the door open and shut.


	7. My Toys

**Here you go, the next chapter. Once again thanks for the support to everyone who's liked/faved/reviewed. Also there is a tiny little r rated scene (last part of this chapter) so you can skip if you want.**

 **Enjoy!**

 **6**

I had him taken out of solitary; he's been in there for far too long, or at least that's the excuse I used. Taking a sip of my juice I place it down on the table in front of me, the truth is I haven't stopped feeling guilty about the incident with the electroconvulsive machine. Shifting on the bench I look around, this isn't our usual setting either. I've decided to have a session with him in the yard instead of one of the blistering session rooms where we can be alone and I can get caught up in his head games. Out here, in view of the other inmates and staff, I feel I will be better able to handle him… I hope.

I can hear movement behind me, turning around I see Graham and Johnson standing beside Joker. He isn't wearing his long sleeved bright orange jumpsuit today; instead he's in orange pants and a plain white T-shirt. The tattoos on his forearms are clearly visible, a smiling mouth on and 'hahahaha' on the other. I hadn't noticed before, but he's very well defined, I can see the muscles bunching underneath his shirt.

 _He really doesn't seem like the sort to work out…_

"Take his shackles off. " The other patients are shackle free, granted Joker is a special case but I know that he won't kill me. I can tell from the look on Graham's face that he disagrees and would like to argue. I can also tell from the tension in Joker's shoulders that Graham is in imminent danger of violence.

"Just do it." I order Graham brusquely, he complies and the smirk on Joker's face is so infectious that I look down at my papers to hide mine. When the shackles are removed I shoo the guards away. Joker watches them leave in silence then turns to face me.

"Would you agree doctor that ecstasy and pain are in many ways one and the same?"

I am already feeling uncertain as to the direction of our conversation "It has been said that pleasure and pain are two sides of the same coin. " I pause "Where is this going?"

"You see doctor, I'm of a mind that they aren't two sides of the same coin. They are one and the same thing just processed…differently by the mind. There is the same form of intensity, the same facial expressions, the same elevated heart rate, the same helplessness and, if someone is inflicting it on you, the same intimacy, the same… connection."

There is a resounding click in my mind.

 _Oh, that's where he's going with this._

He doesn't give me the time to respond "We had a connection, didn't we Harleen? Something very special happened in that room." I look down at the pen in my hand, avoiding those piercing blue eyes.

"You shouldn't call me Harleen. I'm your doctor not your friend."

"You don't argue when I call you pumpkin, but you have a problem with me using your first name?" He laughs "Typical irrational woman." Oddly, I blush.

 _How is he able to do this to me every single time?_

"You use pumpkin to mock me. You're doing this-" I exhale sharply "you're doing this to manipulate me." He's moved closer to me so I gesture for him to sit on the bench on the opposite end of the table. After a few seconds he chooses rather to straddle a spot right beside me on the bench.

If I'm honest with nobody else I should at least be honest with myself. The truth is I had felt something in that room with us and I'm feeling it here with us now. I wasn't sure what it was at the time and I'm still not sure what it was now. Whatever it is it is bigger than him or myself and it does make me feel a connection however twisted; it is electric. I also know that being what he is, a psychopath, Joker is incapable of feeling any connection to other human beings. His brain simply can't function that way.

I twirl the cap on my pen nervously, I had thought very seriously about asking Schumer to take Joker back after our last session. It had been too intense, too overwhelming, too out of control and when he told me to let go- and I did- it felt too good.

"You are a psychopath Mister Joker. You don't feel connections." I add without looking up at him.

"I'm not a psychopath and I'm feeling a connection right now." He leans forward and puts a hand over mine; I immediately yank my hand away.

"I'm done with this topic of conversation." I whisper, "I believe I've earned some answers."

Leaning away from me, he puts both hands on the bench behind him "Ask away."

He keeps his word, for the next 45 minutes he answers all my questions. He also tells me about an abused and neglected child that grew into a brilliant, well-educated young man. I record it all, keeping my interruptions to a minimum. He never gives me a name though and when I probe he tells me it's unimportant. I wonder briefly if maybe he doesn't remember it. He's surprisingly funny and very entertaining despite the topic of conversation. I am completely engrossed in him; I find his odd mannerisms and expressive blue eyes so captivating that I don't notice the commotion behind me until Joker breaks out into a fit of laughter and loud yelling erupts around me.

Whirling around in the direction Joker is facing I see four patients exchanging blows just a few feet away. One thing that Arkham Asylum is known for, apart from it's infamous criminals, are the violent fights that frequently break out. I am currently witnessing one of them.

"Hey! Enough!" I yell jumping up and rushing towards them. Not wanting to get in the middle of four aggressive criminals I stand to the side helplessly, then start yelling for Graham. Unable to locate any of the orderlies, I grab ahold of one of the patient's arms, I recognize him straight away as Victor Szasz a notoriously vicious and unpredictable serial killer, pulling away from the scuffle he turns his hostility onto me. Before I can react Szasz backhands me and sends me stumbling a few feet. My eye begins to throb and I know it will bruise. The crowd gets rowdier causing the fighting patients to turn their attention onto me. Fairly quickly I feel like a lamb offered up to slaughter.

"Graham!" I yell again feeling panic begin to set in. Victor charges me with another of the patients in tow. I move away instinctively bringing my arms up to fighting position, but my back collides with something hard and unmoving. From the corner of my eye I see a hand stabbing forward and Szasz goes down, screaming all the way. He is kneeling on the floor with my pen sticking out of his eye; there is blood pouring out onto his face. I feel an arm come around my shoulder and I see hand with a smile tattooed on it just a few inches away from my face.

The hush in the yard is immediate and extremely unnerving, the only sound I hear is the moaning coming from the floor, and I see all the eyes move away from me to Joker standing beside me.

"Come on now boys" he sounds lighthearted "you know I don't like other people playing with my toys." A feeling of ease creeps over me, it slows down my heart rate and makes the trembling stop.

"Sorry Joker." My second attacker has stopped dead in his tracks and his response is filled with dread. "I meant no disrespect… I – I didn't know."

"Mmm," Joker responds while taking a sip from my can of grape soda that has mysteriously appeared in his hand. Looking down at Szasz he adds "I'd sleep with one eye open if I were you." I snort my laughter in an attempt to smother it and he grins at me.

"Dr. Quinzel?" The voice pulls me down to reality and I realize that not only am I still under Joker's arm but I have also instinctively grabbed ahold of the back of his shirt. I pull away smoothly and attempt to cover up my faux pas by explaining to Graham what had happened.

"I'd like to have an MRI done on you." I tell Joker as Graham puts his shackles back on. I expect him to be uncooperative; he's already given me so much more in this one session than he's ever given anybody else. He watches me intently then I catch a glimpse of silver as he smiles.

"Anything for you." He tries to move closer to me but Graham yanks him back. Before Joker can react I bark at Graham, "It's alright!"

He pulls a small piece of paper with an address scribbled on it from his pocket and hands it to me. I look at him quizzically. His smile widens as he lets Graham lead him away. I look back at the paper and written at the bottom is 'Quincy Quinzel.'

* * *

"Dr. Quinzel… Dr. Quinzel!"

I jump at the sound of my name and look around the lunchroom as my whereabouts come back into focus. Dr. Schumer is standing beside me, so close that I can almost feel his breath on my neck.

"Oh I'm sorry." I move away from the counter, thinking he means to get into the cupboards. I re-read the little purple sticky note that I got from Joker. Quincy, he's found him. I'm not sure how I feel about that; he's obviously had someone looking into my past, into me. How much does he know? Does he know where I live? Does he know my hobbies? What does he think about me? Does he like me? Does he have someone following me? Do I need to be worried?

 _I'm sorry what?_ I back track through my thoughts _Does he like me? Really?_ _He's a psychopath!_

"Well that remains to be seen." I mutter. I'll schedule an MRI and once I get the results I'll know for sure.

"Is that the note you got from Joker?" I snap out of my reflections and find Schumer in my personal space again. I fold the sticky and tuck it away into my white coat pocket.

"No," I lie "its just reminder to call my brother."

"I didn't know you had a brother." He responds then reaches over and puts his hand on the small of my back. "I heard about what happened in the yard today, do you want to talk about it?" I stiffen and lean away.

 _What the hell is going on with him?_

"No." My response is abrupt and verging on an order, I push his hand off my back gently "I want to make sure Joker doesn't get thrown back into solitary though."

"He stabbed another patient in the eye." Schumer looks annoyed.

"He stabbed a serial killer who was about to beat me probably to death!" I snap. "Where were the orderlies? He didn't have to do what he did but he did it anyway just to help me out! We aren't going to punish him for that!"

" I assure you Harleen, The Joker doesn't 'just help' anybody out." He stops and gives me a once over "He also doesn't need anybody taking care of him. Believe me, he can do that very well on his own."

I blush "He's my patient. It's my-"

"Job" he finishes for me as he backs me into the counter "He won't get moved into solitary but I expect a full report on the incident".

"Yes, of course…" my voice wavers from the breathlessness his disregard for my personal space leaves me with.

He turns around and storms off.

 _What the fuck?_

* * *

I splay my legs outward and lean back into my chair as I survey the common room. Yes, my sweet doctor has been looking out for me. You see, she pulled some strings and had me taken out of solitary (not that I needed the help), but it's the thought and all that jazz…

I know what you are thinking: _'Oh dearie me J, how could you? How could you have her attacked in the yard after she's been so kind to you!'_

Well, my silent audience, just shut it! I had nothing to do with that appalling incident (couldn't have planned it better myself) in the yard. I even went out of my way to stop it (See? I'm not psychotic!); mostly because, unless given express permission, I _really_ don't like other people playing with **my** toys.

Slipping my hand into my pocket I pull a picture out and flip it over. It's of a young woman almost completely upside down, her legs splayed wide in an aerial split and her torso wrenching sideways in a twist. The perfect image of a body in motion, of a body struggling against inertia and Harleen Frances Quinzel is beautiful in it. Now, now, let's not get overly excited; I don't keep an image of her in my pocket so I can randomly make Moon Eyes at her, or jerk off to her (I'll admit I thought about it) for that matter. It's just, on afternoons like these, when the insane are being abnormally unexciting it's nice to have a little reminder of why I'm still here.

I tap the picture on the table beside me. Why _am_ I still here? I look at the picture again. An obsession (there is nothing like obsession to keep a man's interest)? Under any other circumstance I would have made my gory escape already, most likely at my psychiatrist's expense. Instead here I am playing games with an extremely fuckable woman (who has daddy issues by the way… more on that later). Is it maybe that connection I mentioned earlier on today? I burst out laughing at the thought and notice the orderlies in the room shift uncomfortably.

Taking another glance at the picture, the laughter stops dead in my throat. I crush it in my hand and place it back in my pocket. See the problem with games is, sometimes when you think you are playing them on others, you find out you are just playing them on yourself at the expense of others.

* * *

His hands push my knees further apart as his lips sprinkle kisses down my belly. I strain my hips forward, anticipating where his mouth will end up and hardly able to control my excitement. Placing both my hands in the soft hair I shove downward eagerly, he laughs and obliges. He moves his lips down to my pussy and I feel the warmth of his tongue push past my lips. I squeeze my eyes shut tight and I let out a relieved moan.

I haven't been with anyone since I left Brooklyn and to say my sex life with Dylan, even before I found out about the 16 year old he was banging, was less than satisfying would be an understatement. So when I went to my self-defense class today and my hunk of a sensei expressed interest, it wasn't hard to say yes. He was handsome and he was sweet and his fingers were firm when they pushed me to the floor of the back room in the dojo.

Opening my eyes I looked down at him, thrilled as the light filtering into the room threw colors on our bodies. We were red, then we were yellow, and then we were blue. I laughed and yanked his hair noticing that it was now green, a very familiar shade of green. An image of Joker pops up in my mind and a searing heat shoots down my spine to that spot between my legs. I look around the room but there are no more lights and when I look back at my sensei, his hair is definitely still green.

I moan loudly and buck my hips up, my legs fall limply to the sides as I feel a finger slip into me. The ecstasy is coming; I can feel the pressure in me building like water behind a dam. The pale back flexes and I catch a glimpse of a tattoo of aces, right there, on his neck and shoulder. _Joker?_ I feel his finger inside me curl forward and caress that sweet spot just at the entrance of my pussy.

"Oh please Mr. J! " I yell as the orgasm comes, making my body quiver. I look at him again and our eyes lock, his sparkling blue ones drawing me in. Confused and at the same time completely at ease, I watch quietly as he places a kiss on my clitoris and smiles. I feel his hand slipping up my body to cup a breast he doesn't break eye contact.

"I don't like other people playing with my toys." He tells me impassively then he lunges forward pen in hand toward my eye.

I gasp frantically awake, body still humming from the orgasm.

 _That I had in my sleep? Is that even possible?_

"Fuck," I mutter remembering how good the green hair and pale skin looked between my legs "I'm in so much trouble."


	8. Daddy's got you

**Voila! Zee Next Chapter! Thanks again to all leaving reviews, likes & favs. It's a real motivator. Hope you all enjoy!**

 **7**

I'm sitting outside in my parked car staring straight ahead at the dilapidated twenty-story apartment building. It's face, which must have once been white, has turned brown from filth and years of neglect. The railings on the stairs and bars on the windows are corroding; the disintegrating metal has left trails of copper colored stains bleeding down the walls. Covering my mouth I push farther back into the driver's seat and bring the little purple note up to my face. I check the address and then leaning over I check my GPS again.

1018 High Meadow Court, Apt#201

Gotham City, New Jersey

18725

They match. I sag back into my chair and drum my fingers on the steering wheel nervously. The long arm of the law doesn't reach very far here and neither do government officials; this part of town belongs to the thugs and the misfits. This is a dangerous place to be.

I realize Joker could be luring me into a trap, it's very likely; but I doubt it. At least not a trap that would kill, it wouldn't make sense. He's had more than enough opportunity and yet here I am. No, I believe that Quincy is here… in this horrible place. Squeezing the steering wheel, I take one last deep breath and get out of my car. I make my way through the dimly lit courtyard, maneuvering through debris and puddles of stagnant water. When I reach the entrance I push the door tentatively expecting it to be locked, but it sways all the way open and I am immediately smacked with the horrendous smell of latrine and decay. I gag, placing my hand on my mouth I make my way up the stairs at the entrance to the second floor.

I walk down the hall until I spot the faded numbers 201 marked on a door. I stop unable to move. He abandoned me, just like my father and just like Dylan. They all abandoned me in one way or another. I looked for Quincy when I was in university; I tried everything I could think of. I contacted the cops, I hired detectives, I looked online, joined websites and I was in contact with at least a dozen organizations. Gone, he'd disappeared off the face of the planet. I thought he was dead. Squeezing my fist shut I knock on the door. I feel the sweat pouring down my back. I wait a few seconds and nothing happens so I knock again. When no one responds the second time, I try the handle and it's open. I push the door but it jams part way and I need press my weight into it so I can squeeze in.

"Hello?" There is a lot of trash on the floor and the squalor in here is just as bad as outside. I hear stumbling behind me and I turn around, my heart racing with a mixture of fear and anticipation. I see a blond man standing in the doorway of the kitchen, his brown eyes dull. He's watching me blankly. His greasy hair is sticking to his skull and lines of scabs run down his gaunt cheeks. My stomach lurches and tears prick my eyes because I can see him underneath it all. I can see my big brother.

"Quincy? It's Harleen." I barely manage, but it's enough to snap him out of whatever trance he was in.

"Harleen?" He says disbelieving " Am I still… Are you… Is this real?" he mutters. I nod at him. He rushes towards me and when he wraps his arms around me the tears start to flow freely down my cheeks. He reeks.

"No one has called me that in so long. It's good to see you." I pull back, uncertain if I feel the same and lost for words. "You look good."

"Thanks." is all I can muster. When he stretches his parched lips at me in a smile all I see are his red swollen gums and the few remaining teeth black with rot. I feel myself crack open; I know I can't be here anymore. I rush out the door but before I can make it, I feel Quincy tug at my arm. I ignore him. I run through the hall, down the stairs and out the front door; I don't stop running until I reach my car. I throw up, gasping, crying, angry, helpless and suddenly very aware of how alone I am.

When the dry heaving stops I drive aimlessly around Gotham watching the lively Saturday afternoon crowds from the solitude of my car. I keep driving and when I finally stop it's 9pm and I'm outside Arkham Asylum. I don't know what exactly I'm doing here, but my feet know where they are going so I let them go. I walk past security that let me in with no questions asked. Most of the cameras in the staff rooms and the cell halls don't work so I don't worry as I sneak by the orderlies' station and pinch a set of keys. Still on autopilot I make my way down the hall to room #0801; I unlock the door and I walk in.

The room is dim, but there is a tiny light on in the corner of the ceiling just above the cot. Joker is sitting there with his back against the wall, both bare feet up on the cot, thighs up in front of his chest and his arms resting on his knees. His head doesn't move but I feel my skin light up when his sharp blue eyes settle on me. We're immobile, each of us observing the other, scouring faces and bodies for some clue as to what will happen next. Much like the first time we met, I'm struck by the predatory intelligence glimmering in his eyes and a blossom of excitement spreads through me; followed very quickly by fury.

Pushing off the wall I stride to him, pull my hand back and swing. The crack of the slap echoes in the room. I pull my hand back for a second one but he's too fast and his pale hand grips my wrist with such bruising force that I clutch helplessly at it. He moves to his knees and brings the index finger of his free hand up to my face.

"You get one of those for free darlin', the next one is gonna cost ya." Then he jerks my wrist at an angle so my only two options are to sit down or let him snap it. I yelp and sit on the cot beside him.

"Why are you here Harleen?" He asks calmly.

"You sent me there. You bastard, you knew! You knew what I'd find and you s-s-s" The tears are coming again and I stop talking so I can keep them at bay.

"That's not why you are here." He says it like he's so sure, like he's known all along that we'd end up here and he has all the answers.

I begin to insist stubbornly but I'm distracted by his free hand moving up to grasps my jaw; he uses it to turn my face sideways. He examines the bruise left by Szasz on my cheek; he caresses it softly with his thumb then digs his fingers harshly into my skin.

"Let's talk about Lila and Matt, Harleen." he leans over and kisses the bruise and I feel the heat from it spread down my neck.

"What?" I ask perplexed, for a second I don't even know what he's talking about. Then I remember "No." I say.

"Yes." He replies simply "I know pumpkin." he moves closer to me lodging a knee under my right thigh and pressing it to the side.

"No, stop." I whisper not sure if I meant his leg as well or just his words. He shifts pressing me down on the cot and moving my captured wrist over my head. Instinctively I place my other hand on his side as my eyes roam his body cataloguing his tattoos; the aces on his neck, Joker written along his abs, , 'hahaha' on his left pectoral and the tattoos on his arms. I feel my stomach muscles clench "No, stop." I say again pushing on his side.

"Do you know he blacked out when you hit him?" he drops his weight on my body "Lila tried to get you off."

"S-sto" I try to talk but he rolls his hips forward sending sparks through my body. "Lila was terrified of you after, they both were. Can you tell me why it happened?"

"No." I repeat and push his ribs away again, which he responds to with another roll of his hips, it's firmer this time. I can feel the hardness of him growing in his nylon pants. "You went to her home" hip roll "hid in the shadows' hip roll ' and attacked her boyfriend.' hip roll.

"No! Stop!" I struggle mindlessly forgetting all my training, a few tears leak down the sides of my face. "I didn't mean to… I-" His length is insistent between my legs and I struggle not to rub against it; he ends the struggle when he grinds it right where the heat has started. I whimper.

"Aaah…" he groans in response and my heart flutters "He had a concussion. He was probably bleeding all over the floor."

 _This needs to stop._

"There was probably a lot of screaming… maybe a few 'please don'ts'." Waves of pleasure are fogging my brain.

 _I can't listen to this._

"Did they call you na-"

"She was mine!" I yell. He continues the movement of his hips, letting go of my wrist he brings his hand down to my hip, "She was all I had left. Quincy left me, mum was a disaster, and dad… dad." I burst into tears "I was alone and he took her from me."

Gripping his shoulders I sob, "I'm still alone." I look up into his eyes, those horribly knowing eyes; he had figured this out already "I came here because I am alone."

"Good girl." He strokes my cheek, then he repositions us so I'm sitting across his lap, head on his shoulder and his arm cradling my back. I miss his weight on top of me but I snuggle in anyway.

"Shh pumpkin pie, daddy's got you now." He whispers to me "You aren't alone anymore." I feel something seep into me then, filling up the crack that had splintered open at my brother's apartment and cocooning me in warmth **.**

* * *

The throb in my cock is still there pushing up against her bottom. Her breathing has slowed down but I can still feel the trickle of tears slipping down my shoulder. I wasn't expecting her to show up here but I knew what had happened as soon as she did. I could see it in her eyes; she'd gone to see her long lost brother Quincy. What millions of things she must have imagined him as. A doctor? A lawyer? A police officer? Instead she got reality (what a tragedy), fiction is so much better than - a pleasant tingling sensation interrupts my thoughts. It's moving along the side of my head backwards. I move my head away and look at Harleen; she was running her fingers through my hair.

"What are you doing?" Her eyes come to mine then go back to my hair and she runs her fingers through it again.

"Why green?" She asks.

"Just lucky I guess." I say blandly.

Her eyebrows lift up "It's natural? That's not possible."

"No, not usually." She looks at it a little longer then away, a blush covering her cheeks. I know immediately where her mind's gone "Yes, the carpet matches the drapes darlin'." I grin at her.

"Oh." Her blush turns a deep red. "I got your MRI results back." It's an obvious attempt to change the subject but, feeling grudgingly lenient, I indulge her.

"Ah, yes the MRI... And?" I ask not really interested at all.

"You're not a psychopath, not by definition anyway." She states as if a great revelation has been made.

"Mmm."

She searches my face as if looking for more then inches her way off of my lap. My dick doesn't like that but I ignore it. "That's all I'm getting?" Her eyes are bright.

My dear Harleen is obviously excited about my results; I roll my eyes. Psychiatrists, they all think psychosis is a disease thrust upon mankind; they think madness is something to be cured. They are missing the point (and the punch line): _reality_ is the disease and 'madness' is the cure. Feeling a bitterness rising in me I brush a strand of hair behind her ear then drop my hand to her neck; I just rest it there, I don't squeeze.

"I think we need to talk about your father Harleen." The brightness in her eyes fizzles out and I feel her body try to pull out of my grasp. I apply pressure to her throat and I don't let go.

"No, please not again." She grabs my wrist and I squeeze tighter (if she's talking, she's still breathing).

"Mmm, I don't blame you pumpkin'. Remembering can be such a horrible thing. Believe me, I know. All those ghastly little secrets you've worked so hard to forget are just waiting for you to take a stroll down Memory Lane." Her eyes are wide, brimming once again with tears; I stroke her cheek.

"Don't worry, daddy will be with you the whole way." She shakes her head at me and manages to dislodge her throat from my hand. I let her go following her closely as she gets off the cot.

"I don't want to talk about my f-"

"You're in denial Harleen." The tears are coming down her face freely again "I don't think I'm crazy, but you know maybe I am. Maybe. But if shutting my eyes to the truth is what it takes to remain sane then I want no part in it." She's backing away from me, trying to move inconspicuously to the door. "Open your eyes darlin'. Too much sanity is madness! You know what's even madder?"

She shakes her head at me eyes wide "Seeing the world as it should be and refusing to see it as it is!"

I lunge for her. Instead of jumping back as I expected her to do, she moves forward and knees me right in the groin. The sharp pain shoots upward from my balls and explodes in the pit of my stomach. I crouch over and start laughing. I hear the door open and slam shut.

"Come back here!" I move to the door and put my forehead against it. Exhaling, I grab my throbbing balls "This conversation isn't over Harleen! Harleen? Harley!"

I put my back against the door and slide all the way to the floor; I keep my knees apart to keep pressure off my nuts.

I really do like that woman.


	9. Insidious Emotion

**Finally, chapter 8... I wanted to post this a few days ago but it just didn't happen.** **Well better late than never.** ** ** **Thanks for reviewing/liking/following!**** Enjoy. **

**8**

I take another sip of my coffee and stare blankly at the documents in front of me. I have been trying to read this paragraph for the past hour and haven't even managed to get through the first two lines. A colleague requested that I provide a second opinion on a criminal case for the GCPD. He is convinced that the accused displays classic signs of narcissistic personality disorder with sociopathic tendencies. I should be thrilled, I used to eat these cases up, but no matter how much I force it I just can't seem to muster up the enthusiasm. I know what the issue is. I put my elbow on the desk and rest my forehead in my hand; I can't get… _him_ …ou _t_ of my head.

Since my lapse in judgment on Saturday I have been totally avoiding my sessions with him. I called in sick on Monday, then again on Tuesday and only came in today because I couldn't justify missing another day of work. I don't plan on seeing him today either though and I requested that my colleague Dr. Kline pay him a quick visit. The funny thing is, while I was avoiding him by not coming in to work, I spent all my time searching for footage of him on the Internet and news on who he's been linked to romantically. I was pleasantly inundated with candid pictures and videos of him but I found nada in terms of relationships; no mention of past or present wives, girlfriends or baby mamas. There was speculation just about everywhere though that he is gay. Some went so far as to suggest that he has it bad for Batman, which thinking back to Saturday, I can somewhat safely say is not the case.

Pushing the file in front of me away I reach over to the drawers on the right hand side of my desk and pull out his MRI results. As I haven't seen him in awhile and I'm supposed to have a session with him now, I think it's fair if I just take another quick peak at his brain scans. They show normal activity in all regions of the brain including those associated with empathy, something psychopaths do not share with the average person. He is clearly capable of feeling a full range of emotions; on the other hand, he is also capable of extreme cruelty and shows no remorse for it. He's a paradox… Something traumatic must have happened to him in his past and it's rocked him so profoundly that he's completely disassociated from his emotions. He made a comment on Saturday about understanding how horrible memories are and if that isn't a red flag I don't know what is. I find my mind drifting from his words to his green hair, to his blue eyes then to his twisted sense of humor and I feel my lips tug upwards in a smile. Glancing at the clock I gather all the documents into his file, he wasn't completely off when he said I was in denial. The past isn't something I like to delve into and making him pay for that by denying him counseling is unfair.

As I exit my office I spot Dr. Schumer entering the lunchroom and I sneak past him; I don't want to deal with his crap right now. I only make it half way to the common room before I hear the sirens… and very familiar laughing. When I get there Dr. Kline is lying on the floor, her neck is spurting thick streams of blood that have pooled on the floor around her head like a crimson halo. Joker is to her right, his shoe partially in the puddle, a knife in his hand and his upper torso drenched in blood. His laughing stops when his eyes land on me and his smile disappears. The orderlies have surrounded him but he's not paying attention to them; his eyes are all mine.

Without so much as I thought I walk through the silent crowd of patients, past the line of orderlies and to him.

He places his lips against my ear and whispers, "I told you I'd kill anyone else." I don't respond instead I use my index and thumb to pluck the knife by the blade out of his hand then drop it unceremoniously onto the floor. The silence is deafening when I grab his bloodied wrist and use it to lead him through the gawking swarm of onlookers, through the Asylum and to his original room in solitary.

* * *

Just like everybody else in the common room I was fascinated with what was obviously and easy interaction between them. She should have been scared but she moved towards him as if she was drawn; he was murderous but he allowed her to disarm him. When they left the hall I followed them out clenching my fists the whole way. They enter the cell and I walk into the guard's station just a few feet from it. I order them to leave then sit on a chair and watch the video feed.

She thinks I'm stupid, that I wouldn't figure out what's happening. I wouldn't have if it weren't that the security cameras' operating systems being repaired. The order had come straight down from Dr. Arkham as soon as he heard Mr. Joker had been readmitted. So I saw her take the keys, I saw her creep through the halls and I saw her enter his room. She stayed there for over an hour. An hour! What was she doing in there, counseling? I don't fucking think so! And here I am skittering around my own place of work scared for my life and having to pretend that I don't know.

I observe the images on the screen.

He's obnoxiously close to her when he follows her into the room, so close that when she turns to leave she smacks face first into his chest. She looks up at him and stays in a fixed stare for a little longer than appropriate before attempting to side step around him. He blocks her exit and closes the door behind him that demented grin never wavering. His lips move but no sound comes through the speakers; I pound them in frustration. Her response is just as inaudible and she makes another, more convincing attempt to leave. She gets past him this time but he bullies her bodily, using his larger size and aggressive demeanor to back her into the door. Her hand is on his chest pushing him away but he leans in anyway and kisses her.

It's obviously forced, she's pushing him back …but then something changes. The hand on his chest stops pushing away and instead curls around his bloodied shirt that then stretches toward her. She stands on her toes pushing up into the kiss and shows only eagerness when he shifts to lodge a knee in between her thighs. Her hand slides up his chest and around his shoulders, her hips press into his and his hands grab hold of them. Passion, that's the only word I can use to describe it. The slut finally pushes him away again and they exchanges more soundless dialogue while she rights her skirt then she leaves the laughing Joker to his cot.

I feel a deep disgust blossom in my stomach, what kind of person would willingly involve herself with a notorious psycho-killer? She would reject a decent human being and willingly accept that monster's tongue down her throat? And to think that I should need to walk around and pretend that I don't know… because of _him_.

I send a copy of the last 15 minutes of footage to my personal email then erase it from the stored footage on the program's memory. Hewon't be in here forever and when he leaves she will give me what I ask for.

* * *

 _What am I doing?_

After the incident in the common room, then my heated make out session with him in solitary I needed to get out of there. I rushed out of the building ignoring the people who tried to talk to me and shunned what felt like a thousand judging eyes. When I stepped out of the building I walked all the way to my car then, reaching it, I crossed my arms on the roof and laid my forehead on my forearms. My eyes are stinging and my breath is shallow.

 _What the fuck am I doing?_

He's a mass murder! The GCPD has attributed 2000 plus deaths either directly or indirectly to him. He's volatile and can flip between moods like changes in the weather; one second he could be laughing then the next he's stabbing you in the eye… probably while still laughing! I know this! I'm not stupid, I know! I also know that, buried underneath all that… that… insanity there must be a very angry human being and I want so badly to help him. I also can't deny, that despite what I've experienced because of him, I've never felt anything like being held by him. I bang my head against my forearms. I've only been working with him for few weeks now; how could I be so disjointed after such a short period of time? How could all these -

"Hey miss, are you ok?" My head pops up and I look at a young man standing to my side. He looks like he may be a little younger than me, maybe in his mid to early twenties; he seems oddly familiar.

"Um… yea" I sound unsure even to myself "Do I know you?"

He smiles at me; his hazel eyes crinkle and a dimple appears on his left cheek. Paola Cuevas - that's who he reminds me of; he's the spitting image of her.

"No, but you probably know my mum."

"Paola?" He nods at me then comes a little closer.

"You sure you're ok?"

"Yes, just having a rough day is all." I take my hands off the car "So, Mr. Cuevas, what brings you to The Nuthouse?"

He laughs while he stretches his hand for me to shake " Domingo" he tells me "but you can just call me Dom. I'm interning here. I'm supposed to meet a Dr. Schumer."

"Oh him… Yes, I'll take you to him."

He's sweet, wholesome and in our short walk to Dr. Schumer's office I realize that he's exactly what I need. He's someone to take my mind off the complicated criminal in solitary. So, before I leave him at Dr. Schumers' office I do something I wouldn't usually.

"Hey Dom, what you doing this evening?"

* * *

My eyes move over the guards at the back entrance of the yard; there are two of them one sleeping, the other focused on his phone. The orderlies are nowhere to be found; you'd think they'd know better by now but complacency (much like stupidity) is a fact of human nature. You see my friends; my sojourn here at Arkham is officially coming to a close. Fini. C'est tout. Adios mothafuckas. Ever since our little tryst in solitary, Harley (that bitch!) has been quite obviously avoiding me. I've seen brief glimpses her (that skank!) and felt those eyes on me but not one session in two weeks. There's been nothing but boredom for two weeks! I don't remember telling her (that trollop!) that I was done. Do you? No you don't… and you know why? Because I didn't!

I stretch out my neck and pull down my shoulders in an attempt to get the tension out my body. Looking at the guards I know all I need to do is make it past them then into the woods beyond the asylum and it's happy sailing towards freedom (aka murder, mayhem and mischief). I don't want to go that way though, I look towards the doors going back into Arkham… she (that tramp!) could be in there and I'm having visions of wringing her (that hussy!) neck.

There is nothing like anger (explosive mind numbing anger) to come between goals and success so I shake my head at the entrance into the main building and lean forward inconspicuously.

"Get him! Get him!" I whisper and lean back looking away from the red-haired patient sitting beside me. I see, from my periphery, her spine straighten and her head snap around. In case you were wondering, this here is a very excitable young lady called Dolly. A few days ago (while bored out of my tree) she confided that the whispering screamers (very poetic) had finally stopped screaming. She told me she was scared because the last time they stopped they stole her soul (hahahahahahahaha) and gave it to her infant son. I believe her son didn't last very long after that. Well today, the whispering screamers are at it again (in case you were wondering), you see, I think one of those guards might have what she's missing.

"We gave it to him! He has it." I whisper and lean away from her again. Her eyes are wide when she looks at me.

"Can you hear them?" I shake my head and shrug; she looks away I press again.

"That guard go get it from him! He has it!" Her body's started twitching and her eyes are wild.

"Which one? Which one? It's mine he can't keep it! Is it that one? It's that one isn't it? I can see it shining, it's that one right?"

"Yes, yes that's him." I have no clue "He has it."

Screaming she jumps forward and rushes towards the guards tackling the sleeping man to the ground. In just a few minutes everyone's focus is on them and I stroll leisurely past the gathering crowd and the scuffle. I see a cap on the floor with the word 'Security' on it that must have been lost when the guard got attacked; I pick it up off the floor and cover my hair with it as I make my way towards freedom. At the exit my legs stop moving and I turn back to look at the building.

There has been a cold hand silently creeping into my gut these past two weeks and it's now not letting me leave. She (that bint!) might be in there and it's time to pay the piper. I start making my way back past the maddening crowd and spot a stream of orderlies running towards the ruckus; I grab the very last one by the arm and punch him in the face. He staggers back and I put my smile hand over his mouth so he can't shout. It's Gray-Ham (ain't life wonderful?); I smile at him.

"Take me to her office." He shakes his head at me so I put my other hand around his throat and pull him closer "Take me to her office or I will kill you right here." His gaze drifts to the all out brawl between the patients and the orderlies, I see exactly when he realizes that he has no choice. Nobody is paying attention; I could kill him then wander out and no one would be the wiser. He nods and takes the lead.

I see her (that bimbo!) in my minds eye; the cold hand in my gut twists and squeezes. Manipulative, confusing, contradictory and insidious emotion. See, JonnieJonnie told me all about her (that slut!) recent activities; I know all about that sickly-sweet, cherub-faced assclown. We walk through the building and when he finally stops we are in front of a door; I nod at the handle. He pushes the door open and we walk in. It's empty.

"Where is she?"

He shakes his head and shrugs, "I don't know. She may have left already."

I feel my lips turn down; I don't have time for this. I need to leave. I glance down at my bright orange pants with the words 'ARKHAM ASYLUM' printed down the sides; as much as I'd like a souvenir, if I'm going to make it out the front door, I'm going to need to change.

I eye Gray-Ham "What size pants do you wear? " he looks confused and I smile wide.


	10. I came to kill

**Don't hate me for leaving this chapter where I do...lol. Sorry in advance :-P . Thanks to all for reviewing/following/liking and ...Enjoy!**

 **9**

Closing my eyes I try to relax as the steaming hot water streams through my hair sending rivulets of suds over my body. I can feel the tension stemming from my back into my shoulders then through to my neck; my head is pounding. I didn't even need to ask, as soon as I mentioned it to Dom he offered to massage it out and he was a complete gentleman when he did. Over the past two weeks Dom has been everything that I thought he'd be; he's sweet, thoughtful, obviously a family man and just a little bit naïve. He would be a perfect boyfriend and yet I'm definitely not interested. Putting my forehead against the pale yellow bathroom tiles, I exhale heavily.

The sound of my phone ringing jolts me from my thoughts; wrapping myself in my light blue nightgown I jump out of the shower and rush to pick it up.

"Hello?" I breathe into the phone.

"Hi Harleen." I recognize the voice and the tension in my shoulders immediately increases; it's one of the two voices that have become familiar to me over the past two weeks.

"Hey Quincy." My voice sounds tentative; I'm not sure what to make of him yet. During my frantic exit of his apartment on The Eventful Saturday I managed to drop my wallet and practically all my private information. Boy, am I a genius. I received a visit from him a few days later; he gave me my wallet back minus the fifty bucks cash that I know was in there. I didn't bother to mention it was missing and when he said he wanted to stay in contact I couldn't say no; a part of me didn't want to say no. He's my brother. He's called me almost every other day since.

Throwing myself on my bed I lie back and resign myself to chatting with him for a little while; about 15 minutes into the conversation I feel my stomach sink.

"Um Harl, I hate to ask but I need some help."

The alarms sound like a marching band in my head; I had suspected this would come.

"Yea?"

"I need some money. Harleen, I just… I just need a little bit. N-not much and I'll pay you back I swear."

I exhale sharply and shake my head "Quincy-"

"It's just $100 bucks. Please it's for my girl. She's sick and we need to get meds. I don't have the money! She'll die!"

I don't believe him, as much as I want to, but he's my brother and I spend more on shoes.

"…ok…" He starts to thank me when my doorbell rings and using that as an excuse I hang up the phone.

 _This month just keeps getting more and more fucked up…_ I think to myself, as I look through the peep whole in my door, I pull back, blink a few times then check again.

I yank the door open and stare with my jaw hanging, completely at a loss for words. My eyes weren't wrong.

 _Batman? What the fuck!_

"Um…" is all I manage to get out before he pushes his way into my home. He immediately starts moving around, room-to-room like he's looking for something.

"Excuse me." I follow him trying to get his attention as he wanders around my sitting room. He doesn't listen and simply moves into my kitchen.

"Excuse me." I try again when he leaves the kitchen and goes to the laundry room.

"Excuse me!" I sound more annoyed now, he moves into my bedroom. He still pays no attention to me when walks into the adjoining bathroom.

"Hey! What the fuck!" I finally yell at the top of my lungs when he steps on my underwear I haven't yet put in the hamper.

"You shouldn't be here. He broke out." He reprimands when he finally acknowledges me. I can feel the fury rising.

"Get the fuck out of my house." I yell. He takes a step forward "Listen lady, The Joker is out and you were his shrink. You need to get out of town before-"

I slap my hands on his chest "You need to get the fuck out of my house before I call the cops!"

It's hard to read his expressions under the black mask but I can tell he thinks I've lost my mind.

"He is going to try to kill you!"

"I can take care of myself B-man!" I say the last word mockingly "Now get out!"

My phone starts ringing again so I walk over and pick it up from where I left it on the bed. I check the call display; it's Dr. Schumer. I feel my stress level hit the ceiling; Dr. Schumer's behavior has gotten progressively worse over the past week even more so over the past few days. The sexual advances have become blatant and his complete lack of respect for my personal space, sometimes in front of other male doctors, is making me uncomfortable at work.

"Dr. Quinzel –" Batman sounds like he's about to lecture me.

In a fit of rage I pitch my phone and clock him right in the temple; he obviously was not expecting that. "Are you going to lecture me to death?" I yell at him.

"No, D-"

"Then get the fuck out!"

He turns and starts to walk out the front door "Just be careful Dr. and know I'll be keeping an eye on you."

"Get out you fucking creep!"

As soon as I hear the front door shut I march out and lock it then march back into my bathroom, put my damn underwear in the hamper and turn off my goddamn bedroom lights; I'm going to bed!

It was so hard trying to stay away from Joker when he was still in the asylum; I would sneak around the common room trying to catch glimpses of him… and now he is gone. Gone! I was surprised by the display that he left in my office; he'd killed Graham with my letter opener and stolen his pants… we assumed he'd kept his Arkham pants too because we couldn't find them anywhere; that made me smile. The stabbing should have appalled me, it was brutal and vicious but all I could feel was flattered that he'd come to see me before he broke out. He'd even left me a little purple sticky; it said _'See you soon -J_ ' and it made my heart race. Well it's been three days! Three days! Where is he? And now this antisocial creep with a bat obsession shows up at my door to warn me that Joker might show up!

"Is that a joke? Is the whole world going fucking crazy?" I scream in the darkness of my bedroom.

"No pumpkin, unfortunately it's just you right now."

My whole body jerks and my head snaps to the door; it's ajar and the light is shinning through the crack onto the bedroom floor. The features of the man standing in front of me are cast in shadow but I know who it is; I've been waiting for him. Reaching back with his foot he pushes the door until we hear it click shut blanketing the room in darkness again. My heart skips a beat and starts to race.

* * *

She doesn't scream; not even a whimper when she notices the blade in my hand, I was expecting that at least. I can still see how beautiful she is in the dark, her long blond hair damp and falling past her shoulders, wide blue eyes (is that adoration?) staring at me expectantly, nice firm breasts, a flat belly and a small waist attached to rounded hips. There is a definite tightening in my pants; my fingers itch to touch her …it's making me mad (not mad as in loopy, mad as in angry). She gazes at me as if in a thrall and parts her lips on a word.

"Hi."

Her voice is barely audible but the room is so still that I hear her perfectly. My eyes don't waver from her lips and I get the urge to kiss her. I stop moving towards her and my hand, previously swishing the switchblade, goes up to the side of my head; in an attempt to gain control (urgh) of my thoughts. I came to kill her not to kiss her!

"You're-" she starts again a little louder then stops as her eyes glance in passing at my switchblade before settling on my forehead " damaged." She finishes when she reads the new addition to my tattoos.

"Geez is it tattooed on my forehead?" I ask and I watch her eyes brighten in mirth. I smile back at her and start my journey towards her again. I notice she isn't backing away from me; the thrill makes my blood burn (Anger? Arousal? Angrousal?).

My lips turn down "Two weeks." I say simply.

Her eyes drop. "I'm sorry."

I dart the remaining distance between us slamming my hand on her mouth and bashing her head into the corner of the wooden door (that's gonna leave a bump). Her hands grip my cream-colored dress shirt to keep her body upright as she sways from the impact.

"Are you really?" I feign hope then slam her head back into the door again.

She groans; the sound sends sparks right down to my groin. "It was wrong. I would have been abusing my authority." Her words are muffled against my hand. I place my forehead against hers laugh hysterically

"How is your head?" My hand likes the feel of her a so I drag it from her mouth; letting it trail languidly down to her neck. "Because you are sorely overestimating the amount of authority you had over me."

My hand continues lazily along its path, it stops to cup a plump soft breast through the thin fabric of her nightgown. I feel her exhale silently against my neck as she places her hand on her temple, "It hurts."

"Good." I sneer.

Taking her hand away from her temple she touches the side of my face then places her lips on the corner of my mouth in a soft kiss. It sends a pleasant blush of heat tingling down the side of my face and a surge of temper pounding through my chest. I knock the wind out of her by slamming her back into the door, and then I bring the switchblade up to her cheek and trail it down to her neck.

I frown "I'm going to kill him you know?" her large eyes, still glinting with what must be adoration, are confused. "That fool you are seeing. I am going to kill him. You should know that."

She shakes her head "No, there's no point. I don't want him." The anger pounding in my chest eases and I slash downwards with the blade. She exhales sharply, her hands grip my shoulders tightly but her eyes don't leave mine. I look at her torso when she does, I didn't cut her open like she probably thought I'd done but the cloth belt that held her nightgown closed has fallen on the floor and her nightgown is hanging open. I see glimpses of rosy nipples, flawless white skin and toned muscle underneath that; they make my dick harden even more (I came to kill!).

"Your times up doctor." I have a hard time getting the words out but when I do she doesn't look scared; she doesn't even flinch for that matter (perfect…she's perfect).

"No it's not." She's absurdly confident considering she's half naked in a room with and infamous mass-murder. "Please. I want…" She stops, she must have read something in my expression because she continues "You like that? You like it when I beg?" she drags her hands down the front of my shirt and starts to kneel "I can do that for you. I can beg for you if that's what you want."

I stare dumbly at her, my mind unable to formulate much of anything coherent (other than WTF?); her behavior is completely out of left field and it's making my brain short-circuit.

She puts both her hands on my thighs and looks up at me, her blue eyes wide and filled with that thrilling emotion.

"Please, forgive me for not coming to see for two weeks." She kisses the left joint between my groin and my thigh. I came to kill, goddamn it! I don't (won't) react.

"Please forgive me for spending time with Dom when what I really wanted to do was spend more time with you." She kisses the right joint between my groin and my thigh. I swallow.

"Pl-"

"Take it off!" I snap at her, she doesn't need to ask me what; she removes her hands from my thighs only long enough to drop her nightgown to the floor behind her.

"Please" she continues as if nothing just happened, as if she isn't now completely naked and on her knees in front of me "I missed you… I want you."

I came to- She kisses the underside of my cock through my slacks. I groan, then stab the switchblade in the door and fist both hands in her hair.

Ah fuck it. I can always kill her later…


	11. Havoc on your health

**Update! Thanks, as always, for the reviews/likes/follows and enjoy!**

 **10**

I open my eyes to the pitch black of the room and lie there in silence as I wait for my eyes to adjust. My body aches and for a second I have no recollection of why there is a pleasant heat burning between my thighs or why all my muscles are sore. Then the images start flashing in my mind and, tugging my thin blanket up to cover my bare chest, I sit up in bed and look to my right where he was when I fell asleep. Gone… I wonder if it will be a pattern with him. I look towards my bathroom and see the handle of his switchblade still sticking out of the door then I look at the floor, his dress shirt is still where he dropped it. I throw myself backwards into my pillow; does that mean he's still here? I close my eyes and replay the night in my mind.

 _I would be a fool to say that I am not scared, I am, I'm terrified; but more than that I'm spellbound._

 _I can tell the second I have him, I can tell from the tension in his shoulders and how his whole body goes still; I feel the triumph shudder through me when I hear the 'thunk!' of the knife penetrating the wood of my bathroom door. Dragging my hands up his thighs I cup him through his pants; his shaft is hard, hot and pulsating underneath my fingers. His hands already gripping tightly at my hair twist and yank painfully forward, I let myself be pulled and my head drops onto his hip as I massage him. After laying another kiss on his throbbing cock, I undo the button, unzip his pants and reach in to wrap my hand around him. I hear the groan come from above me when I start a slow up and down motion, his hands tug and with the pain that comes shooting down my scalp there also comes a feeling of power. I let go of him and readjust his pants so he juts free just inches from my face; reaching up to his cream shirt I pull at it so the bottom buttons pop open. Cupping his balls with my right hand, I grip the base of his thick cock with my left and kiss the swollen head._

 _His hands pull harshly again, "Stop messing around Harley."_

 _His voice is strained, I've never heard it like that before and it makes me giddy; smiling wide for him I look up into his eyes briefly and take him into my mouth. I hear a thud and when I pull back I see his head against the door, the switchblade has nicked his temple, but he doesn't react to the cut or the bead of blood dripping down his face. I sink back towards him enjoying the feel of his cock slipping back and forth between my lips. He mumbles something inaudible then, readjusting his grip so that one hand is at the back of my head and the other beneath my jaw, he begins to piston his hips back and forth. His movements are rushed and forceful but I don't fight him or find it unpleasant, instead what was warmth in between my thighs flares and moisture slips down my thighs. I trail my hands up onto the firm muscles in his abdomen and enjoy the feel of them flexing as his pounding continues to block my airway. Just when the need for air turns into burning in my lungs and my hands push him tentatively away, I feel his abs spasm and I hear a stifled grunt from above me; he stills; his hips jerk once…twice then he grind his orgasm into me. His cum gushes out in jets directly down my throat; he pulls back, withdrawing fully out of my mouth and leaving me gasping with both my hands now on the floor._

 _He chuckles quietly and places his head back on the door; I can feel his eyes on me._

" _Well… that was unexpected."_

 _I just continue to gasp, still trying to catch my breath; but I manage to sit up and look up at him. He puts his hand out to me "Come here pumpkin." I take his hand and he helps me up to my feet, his touch is uncharacteristically gentle when he caresses my cheek and pushes my hair over my shoulder, "I came here to kill you."_

 _Not for the first time this evening, I feel fear slice through me, I shake my head at him though "No you didn't; you knew this would happen. You wanted this to happen, you like me."_

" _I've killed people I like and paid people I don't, pumpkin. Stop trying to convince yourself that I could care, it's going to wreak havoc on your health."_

 _I shake my head but I don't argue; he'll believe whatever he needs to believe. The fact remains that I'm still alive when every single other doctor he's managed to get his hands on has died horribly; that on it's own means something. The fact that he's leaning into me, his dick hardening again against my belly and his lips kissing my neck means_ _something._

" _Has there been anybody else?" I ask; I've looked online and never found anything about past relationships. He doesn't answer, he's obviously distracted so I push him away and repeat the question. He rolls his eyes at me and tries to lean back into me so I push him away again; he grabs my wrists painfully and slams them into the door._

" _No!" He snarls, his temper is back but his answer, I had expected it, and it means something. "Are you going to cooperate or am I going to have to use force?"_

 _My heart is hammering in my chest and I can't get my lips to form words so I use my legs to climb up onto his hips and press my lips against his. He smiles at me and slams me back into the door; my head barely misses the jutting switchblade, and he presses his lips back into mine. His kiss is harsh and his hands now at my hips are bruising, but my juices flow freely onto his cock that I can feel rubbing between my legs. I grind into him and moan against his lips. He turns from the door walks a few feet then pulls me unexpectedly off him and throws me the remaining distance towards the bed. My upper back hits the mattress but my ass hits the wooden frame and I yelp in pain. My heart is thundering in my chest from excitement and my hands are trembling; he's walking towards me, his pants hanging low and open, his hands are up at his chest unfastening the remaining buttons on his cream colored shirt._

 _I start to move up when he reaches the foot of the bed but he grabs my ankle and pulls me roughly, I yelp and giggle as I'm dragged back down. He drops his shirt behind him then proceeds to remove his pants. He wasn't lying, the carpet does match the drapes, but the hair there seems darker than the hair on his head and I'm not sure if it's an illusion because of the bad lighting or if it is actually darker. I reach forward and run my fingers over it, he makes a noise at the back of his throat then grasps my arm and yanks me up for another kiss; when he's done he pushes me back onto the bed. He nudges my thigh with his knee, I get the message, I prop myself up on my elbows and forearms as I spread my legs for him. His eyes are riveted and I hear a heavy exhale, he reaches over and runs a finger through the slickness there then pushes his moist finger in his mouth. I moan at the sight and he smiles at me._

 _Holding my legs he flips me over onto my belly then kneels on the bed between my legs; his fingers reach for my pussy and spread it. "Please…" I reach behind me for his thigh and I push back "Please!" He gives me what I'm begging for with one harsh thrust._

" _Ugh… Fuck." my voice hoarse._

 _One of his hands is in my hair pulling my head back, straining the muscles in my neck; the other slaps me on my thigh then grips my waist. His thrusts are not any kinder now that I can feel him pounding into me from behind than they were earlier on but the pleasure is undeniable. One of my hands tangle with his in my hair and the other one I use to prop myself up on the bed. I'm moaning uncontrollably as his thrusts push us further and further up on the bed. Soon my moans are almost sobs and his silence has turned into grunting; we've moved so far up the bed that I am crushed against the wooden headboard. My neck is craned down, both my hands on the pillows underneath me; he's above me his thrusts banging my head into the wood and his hands on the wall behind it. My whole body is strained, twisted and in pain but I've never felt anything like the pleasure it's giving me; I close my eyes overwhelmed by it. I cry out one last time when my orgasm hits and I feel myself clench convulsively around him. He keeps thrusting, and thrusting and thrusting until finally he shudders on a heavy groan._

 _We stay like that for a while, me wedged underneath, him hovering above me; both of us gasping and slick with sweat. His crushing weight eventually pulls away from me easing the tension in my body and allowing me to stretch out on the bed; he doesn't say a word when he lies down beside me. I give him a quick peck on the cheek, to which he doesn't react; I snuggle in close to him, delighted when he doesn't push me away and fall instantly asleep._

I open my eyes and stare up at the ceiling in thrilled disbelief, and then I get up off the bed and pick up his shirt; by the time I've reached my bedroom door I've already put it on and buttoned it up. In the sitting room American Psycho is airing on TV and in front of the TV, doing sit-ups, is Joker. I pause stunned that he really is still here, and then I giggle at the absurdity and irony of finding Joker, in my sitting room, watching American Psycho in the middle of the night. I look at the clock on the wall its three thirty in the morning then I look at him on the floor in the middle of a workout.

"Are you nuts?" I blurt still snickering when I sit on the couch.

"Is that actually a question?" he says not stopping his workout and not looking at me; he's covered in sweat so I know he's been at it for a while. My snickering turns into a full laugh and I shake my head "I guess not. What time did you wake up?"

"I didn't."

My curiosity is doubly peeked "You mean you didn't sleep?"

He stops his sit-ups to give me a withering look; clearly sit-ups are acceptable at 3:30am but conversation is not. I mime zipping my mouth, locking it and throwing away the key then nestle into the couch to watch American Psycho.

* * *

I glare at her silently as she throws away her imaginary key and settles into the couch contently (disgustingly content mind you); she's supposed to be dead… and let me tell you, for a dead person, she's doing a lot of walking and talking (…and fucking for that matter). Her hair is dry now falling in waves down her shoulders; her blue eyes are half closed clearly comfortable enough to be drowsy. She's beautiful and having her kneeling in front of me, having her crushed against the bed and distorted was intoxicating. I can feel myself hardening just thinking about it, she must sense my eyes on her because she does a double take and smiles at me.

"What?" she asks

 _You're supposed to be dead._

I open my mouth to tell her just that when a phone rings and catches both our attention. Her eyebrows shoot up and she gets up and walks back to the bedroom and out again with her phone in her hand, she's smiling.

"Who is that?"

She shrugs, "It's just Dom." I feel my lips turn down, another dead man walking.

I don't respond instead I turn over and start doing push-ups. It's better than staring at the ceiling and failing at sleep. Siesta, like sanity, is something that comes in short supply (fortunately for my abs). When I stop working out the sun is peaking through the windows and Harley is asleep, I roll my eyes at her then walk into the bathroom to have a shower.

When I come out she's still asleep, clenching my fingers I crawl onto the couch with her and lodge my thighs under hers, pushing her legs up so her thighs settle on top of mine. She starts awake her eyes wide; she looks disoriented for a second and her eyes settle on me.

"You know darlin' " I say placing my fingers around her neck "You can tell a lot about a person from their hands." Her blue eyes are locked on mine and her breathing is shallow but she doesn't say anything. "For example," I tighten my hands around her throat "if they have their hands around your throat, they probably want you dead." She doesn't laugh and there's fear in her eyes but it seems to fizzle a little and she kisses my wrists. I squeeze tighter and push my thighs closer to hers; she grabs my shoulders and pushes away. My shirt slips up her thighs and opens, exposing her bare pussy to me; my eyes are drawn there and my fingers loosen minutely.

I hear a door bang open and my head jerks to look behind me.

"Mr. J, we have a probl-" the words come to a stuttering halt. I let go of her neck and turn around fully, she lets go of my shoulders and props herself up.

"Uh…" Frost is standing in the doorway between the sitting room and the hall. "Sorry for interrupting Mr. J. " His eyes are lodged between her legs. My temper flares.

"See something you like?" I snap.

"Uh… sorry Mr. J. I was expecting her to be…" he glances at Harley. He expected her to be dead (yea, you and me both buddy). He seems unusually fidgety all of a sudden and his eyes jerk around the room, looking anywhere and everywhere but at Harley (smart man).

"What do you want?" I ask Frost, I feel Harley shifting around underneath me. I look down at her to find she's pulled my shirt down to cover herself.

"We have a problem on the west side, boss."

"Mmm." I respond getting up and walking towards the door "No rest for the wicked I guess."

I hear Harley shuffling around on the couch behind me "Hey, don't you want your shirt back?"

"Don't worry about it toots. It looks better on you anyway."

"Ok." Then after a pause "Um, Mr. J" I turn to face her "Batman was here earlier, he is going to be looking for you."

I smirk "Isn't he always?"

I've got so many places to go and so many people to kill so I turn to leave; Harley gets to live another day.


	12. Death is so final

**Thanks to everyone reviewing/liking/following! Enjoy the next chapter this one's a little longer than they usually are.**

 **11**

It took us eight months of planning to get that transaction organized with the West End Killers and about 5 seconds of bitch slapping from The Bat to get Michael 'Machine Gun' Gunner to sing like a blue bird. The transaction is officially a bust, lost money, lost drugs, pissed off partners, no 'Machine Gun' to gut and not so much as a giggle from Mr. J… It's making me nervous. He hasn't said much or laughed at all since he got into the backseat of the Denali earlier on this morning; he's usually a lot chattier when plans go to shit. If there is one thing that I've learned about Mr. J, it's that he thrives on best-laid plans going to waste. It's what keeps him busy; when everything is running smoothly he gets bored and his creative juices start flowing then we get daycare bombings, chemicals in the drinking water, provoking batman, he'll go so far as sabotaging his own businesses and inciting betrayal from his own people.

When I first started working for him I thought that it was the behavior of a lunatic; his motivations were beyond me. I mean he's obviously not motivated by money, I've seen him organize a heist, pull it off then shoot his accomplices and burn all the cash. He isn't motivated by fear, not fear of getting caught, not fear of batman, not fear of pain or even fear of death. He isn't motivated by power, although he's got a lot of it, he'll give up turf and leave it unclaimed just to watch the chaos that ensues from the war. Despite the rumors of homosexuality and all manner of sexual depravity, I can say he's never shown any interest in, never mind been motivated by, sex.

I won't say that I understand his motivations now but I can say that I'm not entirely convinced that he's insane anymore; or at least I don't think he's as insane as he lets on. Mr. J is a different kind of animal; I've heard people say there is a fine line between genius and insanity and Mr. J blurs that line. Despite all his eccentricities, he is still the most feared, the most respected and the most successful criminal in Gotham City. He is sitting on top of the world like a Mad God; envied by some, worshipped by many, respected by most and feared by all. To do that you need to be at least equal parts genius and insane.

I glance into the rear view mirror at him, his mouth is down turned in what is almost a caricature of a pout, I bring my eyes back to the road. The only thing worse than having Mr. J pouting is having him aim The Grin at you. That Dead-Eyed-Shark-Toothed-Grin; that smile that tells you only lucky men die peacefully. I glance at him in the mirror again, something is definitely up and I have a nagging feeling it has got to do with that hot broad he clearly fucked.

"Is everything alright boss?" I ask at the risk of my own neck. He draws his eyes away from the street and takes a sip from his glass of whisky.

"Jonniejonnie boy, I am… conflicted."

"About what, Mr. J? Maybe I can help?" When the killing mood is on him everyone is fair game so if I can nip this in the bud I can potentially avoid being collateral damage later on.

As if he can read my mind he downs the last of the whisky then aims the glass perfectly and hurls it out the window to knock a random cyclist on the head.

He looks back at me and deadpans "Sucks to be that guy…" Then he slouches back in his seat "Women."

I knew it! That bitch is going to be bad news for everybody!

"You mean that doctor lady?" I keep my voice as even as I can.

"Don't ask me stupid questions Frost. You know how much I dislike stupid questions." He's looking out the window again.

"I'm sorry Mr. J, I just -"

He exhales sharply "Are you going to ask me why I haven't killed her?"

My blood has turned to ice in my veins, he does that frequently, make you feel like your brain is cracked open and he can see everything in it. I take a quick peak in the rear view in hopes of gleaning something from his expression, I can tell nothing.

I take a deep breath "With all due respect Mr. J, it's a valid question." I can sense his eyes boring into the back of my head and the hair on my arms rise.

"What is it? You don't like her?" My fingers are cold but the car seems extremely hot all of a sudden.

"Uh it's not that Mr. J, it's just you've killed most of your doctors and if she's leaving you conflicted maybe you should just do her in as well. It will solve your problem." I glance at him and he's looking at me intently; for a second I can almost see my life flashing in front of my eyes but then he looks back out the window and I know he's let it go.

"You're very pragmatic Jonnieboy, have I ever told you that?"

"Yes, you have Mr. J."

"It's really very endearing." I'm not sure how to respond so instead I just keep driving.

"I did want her dead but she's proving to be so… so…" he trails off.

"If it's pussy you want boss it's not like the girls don't throw it at you. It doesn't need to be her-"

He snorts at that and I take a quick peek at him "Quality over quantity Jonniejonnie, more is not better. Quality is hard to find and death is so final."

"Respectfully Mr. J sounds to me like you want to have your cake and eat it to." I say as I pull into a large driveway with two white BMWs parked side by side.

He smiles at me "Mmm, well I think I can." He responds as I get out of the car to open his door.

He steps out, still shirtless from this morning, moves over well into my personal space and puts his hand on my face "Thanks for the heart-to-heart Jonnieboy, it was enlightening."

He turns around and starts walking towards our next order of business.

* * *

I made a date with Dom tonight; I'm going to break it off. After the night I had with Mr. J I can't pretend that I'm interested in Dom anymore and I don't want to lead him on, he deserves better. Getting up from my desk I turn my computer off then pick up my handbag and rummage through it for my keys, it takes a second but I find them and pull them out.

"I was hoping you were still here." My hand jolts and I drop my keys on the desk.

"Dr. Schumer." I gasp, "Jeez, you scared me." He smiles as I pick up my keys.

"I haven't been seeing you around much these past few weeks, Harleen." Yes, I've been doing my best to avoid him and my best is proving pretty damn good. I come around the desk and try to maneuver past him to get to the door but he puts a hand on my belly and pushes me in front of him.

"I want you to suck my dick."

"What?" It's all I can muster through the shock.

He walks towards me, backing me into my desk "I said, you slut," he grips one of my shoulders and puts his other hand on my breast "I want you to suck my dick." He puts pressure on me in an attempt to force me down. I grip the back of my desk in anger and I refuse to kneel, then lodging my foot behind his I lunge forward causing him to trip over my ankle and fall.

"I know, you bitch!" I hear him yell behind me as I run towards the exit "I saw you letting that freak touch you!"

I stop at the door heart racing and look back at him. "That's right cunt, I know." I can't see a lie in his eyes "I have proof. If you tell anyone about this you'll lose your license to practice."

I rush out to my car and when I'm safely inside, I put my head on the steering wheel and let the tears shudder out of me. When I finally get them under control, I start my car and I'm just about to put it in gear when my phone rings. I answer without checking the call display.

"Hey Harleen!" Hearing Quincy's voice I drop my head back onto my steering wheel and puff out a breath in exasperation.

"I'm not giving you any more money Quincy." I respond straight away, I already know where the conversation is heading. When I went over to his apartment to drop off the $100 I'd promised he'd asked me for an extra $100. I didn't have that much more cash on me but I gave him what extra I had and left. I've been waiting for this call since and now I'm drawing the line.

"Don't be like that Harleen." His voice is strained.

Rolling my eyes "I'm not going to give you drug money Quincy."

"Harls honestly it-"

"Don't call me again." I pull the phone away from my ear, hang up and drive away. I'm on the bridge when it starts ringing again; I glance at the call display and when 'QUINCY' flashes at me I throw it down into the water below.

My emotions are high and my tears are barely in check; I know that I should cancel my date with Dom but I won't. Mr. J is already out to get him, the faster I get him out of my life the safer he'll be.

* * *

My elbows are on the table fingers interlocked in front of my chin as I watch these morons squabble over the $180 million dollars worth of confiscated cocaine. It's amazing to see how much value they place on pieces of printed-paper (I'm the one who's crazy?); it would be comical if it weren't so pathetic (ah… what the hell?); I laugh. It's a low chuckle that comes out it short bursts of sound and it quickly gets the attention of everyone at the table. Their eyes are all on me and I sit back in my chair; it is pathetic but that was my money and when the world (in this case The Bat) slaps you in the face, you shoot it (his friends/family/loved ones) in the head.

"You are all avoiding The Big Bad Bat in the room." I tell them calmly; my head twitches up and to the side stretching my neck then, disbelieving, I freeze. There she is, sitting right in the middle of my restaurant, having dinner with … Dom (the dead man).

I'm sitting in a private room surrounded by one-way mirrors, I can see her but she can't see me. She's in a short white dress that shows an indecent amount of her long smooth legs, her hair is loose around her shoulders and her blue eyes, framed with black-rimmed glasses, are fixed on the man in front of her.

"J we c-" I ignore the voice and push up from my chair then shove the door to the main dining area open. I see Jonnieboy get up behind me but I gesture and instead of following me he exists the room and stands by the door.

I take hold of the first chair I walk by and drag it noisily along the floor then reaching her table I slam it down startling them both. Their heads whip over in my direction and I see her face turn and interesting shade of pale; Dom just looks confused. I sit down beside them and watch peacefully as they both stare at me, Harley looking paler by the second, Dom looking greener (it's a good look on him).

I grin at them "Well, what are the chances of this happening?" their tenuous silence breaks.

"Mr. J honestly it's not what it looks li-"

"Jesus Christ you are The Joker, I can't b-"

"Shut up." The silence falls over them briefly but then Dom offers his hand in a shake (really?) moving faster than he can react I grab hold of Harley's fork and jab it through the meat of his hand. Harley jerks up as if to jump up from the table but I grab her wrist and pull her back down into her seat. Dom is groaning.

"Eat." I order.

Harley reaches to pick up a spoon but I put my hand over hers "Not you."

"Mr. J, I was breaking up w-" I put my hand on her mouth to silence her; I can see my smile tattoo grinning back at me.

"I'm gonna get to you in a second pumpkin." I assure her; I use that same hand to reach into my mauve jacket and pull my gun out of its holster.

"Eat." I say again placing it on the table in front of me. He hesitates, he's having a hard time as Harley's fork is still jutting from his hand so I reach over and yank it out (See? I can be nice).

He fumbles awkwardly with the knife he picks up; the handle is slippery from his blood so I take it and cut a few pieces of steak for him. As he's picking up the pieces and masticating mechanically I feel Harley reach over and tug pleadingly on my jacket sleeve (aw isn't she sweet?).

I give her my attention "You know darlin' I met a woman a little while ago, enchanting lady" I ghost my index down her cheek "though not as beautiful as you.

She told me a very interesting story. It started with her meeting a man in a bar, a man she knew she was meant to be with the second she saw him, you know, love at first sight and all that bullshit. "

Dom starts running out of steak so I cut him a few more pieces.

"Well, after a few months the touching and blushing turned into passion in bedrooms and fucking in alleyways. It was emotional and physical bliss… until she found out that her man had trouble keeping his dick in his pants."

"We haven't-" I look at her and she stops talking

"He'd been fucking her friend." I continue with my story "Well most people would just leave after that… I mean that's how it works normally isn't it? You just pack your things and leave; let karma do the rest? This lady couldn't do that; see karma worked a little too slowly for her. So she called him over one evening to her friend's house and when he showed up, he found that she'd shot her six times in the head and set her body on fire." I hear Dom snivel and choke.

"That sniveling is making me want to hurt you." I warn him, Harley's hand is clutching my wrist now.

"You know what the funny thing is though?" I look back at Harley "Yea, she got thrown into Arkham for a very long time but when she got out he was waiting for her. There was a happily ever after for them… well at least until I slit her throat for chatting my ear off."

"Mr. J nothing has happened-"

"I haven't-" Dom started

"You haven't fucked her?" He shakes his head violently at me "You mean you haven't heard how thick her accent gets when she's begging for you or how she twitches around you when she comes."

He shakes his head again and I laugh, throwing my hands up in the air "Well then no harm no foul. I should just let you go right?"

"Yes, yes right." He agrees with me.

"Wrong!" I use one hand to grab Harley by the hair and yank her up with me as I get to my feet; the other hand picks up my gun and points it at his head.

"Tell me pumpkin wouldn't you say it takes a certain kind of person to be able to go back to a woman capable of that kind of violence?"

She doesn't say anything; her eyes are delightfully moist but there are no tears running down her cheeks. She nods her head at me.

"Tell me _Dr. Quinzel_ , because I'm dying to know, are you that kind of person?"


	13. Daddy's lil' Monster

**Here is the next one! Thanks to all for the reviews/likes/follows & enjoy!**

 **12**

"Tell me _Dr. Quinzel_ , because I'm dying to know, are you that kind of person?"

It's weird how, looking back at decisions you've made, your mistakes can seem so glaringly obvious; when, at the time you made them, they seemed like the only choices that made any sense. Staring into the cold anger of Mr.J's eyes it's clear to me now that I should never have asked Dom out. I should never have avoided Mr. J for as long as I did, I should never have met up with Dom, even just to break up with him, and I should never have told myself any of that was 'doing the right thing'.

"Come on darlin'." I hear Mr. J urge, "My arm is getting tiered and the suspense is killing us… well mostly it's just going to kill him."

All I can do is stare at them as tears well in my eyes; I don't want to answer his question. I don't know how to answer his question; I want to tell him that I'm not that type of person but the words won't come out. I don't know if it's true. The only two things that I know at this moment are that I like the harshness of his fist in my hair, it feels just as right now as it did when he was fucking me; the second is that Dom doesn't deserve to die.

"I don't want him to die." I respond as the tears finally start spilling down my cheeks.

"Oh, come here baby." He sighs when he sees my tears.

"Come to daddy." The grip of his hand in my hair relaxes; he pets me, caressing the strands and sending a pleasant tingling throughout my scalp to replace the pain. Gripping the back of my head he brings me against his firm body and puts his mouth on me. My eyelids fall shut as his lips work against mine, I open to him enjoying the feel of possession that comes pouring into my body.

He breaks the kiss and looks me in the eyes "I told you what would happen pumpkin, didn't I?" He places another quick kiss on my lips and drops his hand to my waist "He's already dead." Despite his earlier statement his gun arm doesn't tremble or show any signs of fatigue while he presses against me. "You've already killed him."

He puts his lips against my ear; my stomach sinks and butterflies burst in my belly "You like to pretend at The Civilized _Dr. Quinzel_ but there is a monster in you."

I shake my head at him and he laughs wholeheartedly, I worry that his gun will misfire "You would have to lie to him" he pokes Dom in the head a few times with the weapon "You would have to lie to everyone else but, darlin', you don't have to lie to me."

Dropping his gun arm finally, he takes ahold of my hand and places the glock in it. I immediately start sobbing loudly and resist by refusing to hold it.

"I promise I will make him suffer if you don't hold this gun!" He snaps at me, Dom starts to sob as well. Mr. J grabs him by the neck and slams his face into the plate in front on him. Once, twice, three times and Dom falls on the ground; his crushed nose gushing blood all over the carpet.

"I told them not to put a carpet in here!" Mr. J yells, "Are you going to replace that?" He asks Dom as he aims the gun at his thigh but before he can fire I snatch the gun from his hand.

"Good girl." He praises me, his expression switching instantly from a mask of rage to a look of complete satisfaction "Now, I need you to be daddy's lil' monster and pull that trigger for me."

When I try to step away from him this time he lets me; I look at Dom whose face is turned down hands clasped in prayer then up to Frost at the other end of the room. The restaurant that was filled with staff and customers just a little while ago has emptied out and I wonder, as I sense myself begin to float outside of my body, how so many people could have left without my noticing. I blink a few times at my fingers as they flex around the grip of the glock; I'm in awe of how I could be in control of a body when I feel so completely apart from it.

 _There is a term for this_ , the distant voice of the psychiatrist in my brain whispers, _dissociation_.

I feel the racing of my heart begin to slow down, the trembling of my hands steadies and the tears stop. I force myself to look away from the piece and into Mr.J's eyes; those beautiful, vicious blue eyes. I've wanted him more than anything else since I visited his cell and found comfort in his arms, then out of desperation to 'do the right thing' I tried to deprive myself of him and I punished him in the process. It only makes sense for him to be angry and here he's given me the power to make things bet-

A loud crash sounds behind me, followed very quickly by a shower of glass; tiny shards pepper my bare arms and legs speckling my body with angry little nicks and cuts. I glimpse, from the corner of my eye, a black mass careening towards me before I'm lifted off the ground and travel in the air away from Mr. J. I land roughly but my training compels my body to tuck into a roll, softening the landing and twisting me back onto my feet.

The abruptness snaps my perception back into place and I whirl around to find Batman standing in front of me; he throws his arm around my shoulder as gunfire starts exploding at us.

"Get down!" he drags me to the floor and flips a nearby table over to shield us from the onslaught.

"Where is he!" I shriek frantically; I try to dislodge Batman's arm so I can peer around the overturned table but the man's grip is like steel.

"He's still on the floor. He's bleeding." my heart sinks and panicked tears prick my eyes again.

 _No!_

"W-was he shot?" I barely manage to get the question out, Batman isn't paying any attention to me he's looking over the table. Grabbing his ridiculous cape I pull him backwards.

"Was he shot!" the tears are spilling freely down my cheeks again. He pushes me onto my haunches then places his hands on my shoulders.

"No, don't worry the kid is fine. Stay here! The cops will get him." As if on cue I hear the sirens of approaching police cars.

"The kid?" I mumble then it dawns on me as I watch him skulk away; he thinks I'm talking about Dom. I'm not, I'd completely forgotten about Dom and in this moment I couldn't care less if he was dead.

"Good God Guano-man! You really have a knack for over the top entrances… and ruining memorable occasions …and just being a general pain in my fucking ass, you know that?"

The relief that washes over me does funny things to my stomach and a grin just about splits my face in two. He's fine; I mean, of course he's fine! What was I thinking? I peek over the table to where the voice is coming from and I see a pale tattooed hand shoot off a few more bullets.

"I really missed you Batsy." I giggle in relief at his antics.

The sirens are just outside now and the sounds of a few bullets being fired by a handful of gangsters becomes crescendo gunshots; the police didn't bother trying to talk them down and the already precarious situation turns into a full-blown shootout.

Staying on my hands and knees I begin to crawl towards Mr. J making sure to stay as hidden as possible.

* * *

I use the heel of my hand to knock my last clip into the glock and my mind wanders to it's twin that I'd handed over to Harley earlier on; it would be nice if she'd use the goddamn thing. Shoot the cops, shoot The Bat, shoot the boys, hell shoot me if she has to just shoot _something_! What a waste of perfectly good, perfectly lethal ammo!

I glance at the entrance to the private dining room and see that the boys have cleared out and are slowly making their way, guns ablazin', to the rear exit; they (geniuses the lot of them) are most likely throwing themselves right into the waiting arms of GCPD.

Frost on the other hand has taken cover in the doorway of the private room; you see, he knows that those of us who have foresight (such as your beloved Joe Kerr) always have a quick exit strategy for times when we find ourselves in a bit of a pickle. He would be right (I don't keep him around for his good looks); there is a hidden passage in the dinning room and all I need to do is sneak past The Batman (fat chance of _that_ ) and we can make a quick exit stage left.

The chaos has only gotten worse since the police arrived but I know that my window for escape is closing quickly; I need to make it to JonnieJonnie if I want to stay out of Arkham. I see a bottle of scotch on the shelf underneath the bar where I've taken cover; I unscrew the cap and take a quick swig (here's to you chaos). I drop it, and then crouched I make my way along the bar to the private room.

"How is Robin, sugar plum?" I yell over the noise (not that he'll respond) "I heard he survived our last encounter."

I've reached the end of the bar and the door to the dining room is within a manageable running distance but I know Batsy is nearby, I can feel his presence like a hand on my neck "Where are you hiding him anyway? "

I take off in a run, gun pointed down, "I should pay him another visit. Especially now that I owe you for my busted teeth and my missing drugs."

I feel The Bat slam into me before I see him (naturally); he sends me staggering forward and I face plant into the floor. I laugh at the tangy taste of my blood oozing into my mouth and turn in his direction firing blindly.

"Woooow!"

Hi mass landing on top of me knocks the wind out me and we struggle; him trying to wrench the gun from my hand and me trying to point it at his head. He's burlier than I am, much heavier, I can't out wrestle him and he succeeds in trapping my gun hand under his weight. While he's distracted I jerk my other wrist and feel the knife I have hidden there pop out into my palm. He doesn't see it until I stick it in his shoulder and twist. He grunts then grabs ahold of my neck and punches me in the face; he cocks his fist back in preparation for another one.

"Uh oh here we go again" his eyes read over the tattoo on my forehead and I laugh hysterically (that one's for you darling); his fist falters, no doubt remembering the damage he'd done the last time we were in a similar situation "and I didn't even have to beat Robin half to death this time." I goad and his fist comes down.

I laugh some more as I catch a glimpse of Harley behind him; she's still got my gun in her hand as she crawls along the floor. He's punching me in the face repeatedly but I can't take my eyes off her; she's obviously panic-stricken by what she's observing and her lovely features are strained.

A particularly heavy blow throws my head back into the ground; the impact darkens my vision briefly and when it comes back I see her crack (there's daddy's lil' monster). The gun in her hand comes up and she fires without hesitation, one bullet, just one, that strikes Bat-Brain in the back; he jolts forward and his muscles slacken so I pistol-whip him across the skull.

The cops are storming into the restaurant now and all but one of the boys are gone; he lets off another around towards the police but he strikes Harley instead. She pitches forward from her kneeling position and sends my pistol skittering along the floor and into my leg.

Picking up my missing weapon I shoot the thug that hurt her in between the eyes then give Batman a friendly pat on his unconscious head (ttyl loverbat).

I make it finally to JonnieJonnie but before we leave I turn and to look at Harley again; her eyes are open and she's obviously in pain (it's beautiful to watch). I smile and wink at her then turn my back and head towards the hidden trapdoor with Jonnieboy.

She'll get no coddling from me **.**

* * *

The hospital is crawling with cops but I was able to sneak in quite easily (surprise surprise). I watch her from a distance at first then wander in further; she's unconscious probably from the morphine or the emotional exhaustion… likely from a little bit of both. She isn't used to the chaos (I'll need to fix that).

Regardless, she really was a good girl earlier on this evening, if it wasn't for her I may have had to get a few more silver caps on my teeth. Taking the purple tulip out of the simple vase I drag it along her lips then lean in after them for a kiss. She's soft, so very soft. I place the tulip back in the vase and put the vase on the table beside her.

I bend over and whisper in her ear "I'm waiting for you pumpkin."


	14. A Few Trees

**Update! So.. I hear yee who said the last chapter was short... so this one is a little longer :) ... just a little.  
Thanks for the likes/reviews/follows and ENJOY!  
**

 **13**

Do you people think that I don't realize this is overkill; I do, it is; yet here I am and somebody (three guesses who) is going to die tonight. Reaching down to the golden retriever pup (urgh) beside me, I let it chew into my fingers playfully as I watch the man.

"I don't get it Dead Man." I take my fingers away from the puppy to pull Harley's black glasses out of my pocket. Dom The Dead Man is on the floor again his eyes swollen and black from bruising (ouch); his nose equally black and enclosed in a white splint (tsk, did I do that?). You would think that I would have let it go by now, huh? Well the image of this buffoon sitting across from her at the table has been playing on repeat in my mind for the past two days. I'd be less pissed off if it had been, well nobody really, except maybe Batsy (he is rather fascinating).

"I can't see what it could have possibly been." I lean closer, place my elbows on my knees, my fingers still clutching the glasses then balance my chin on the back of my hands. I've been sitting here for the past 30 minutes and I still can't figure it out; he's so -"Unexceptional". He snivels at the word and I stifle the urge to stomp on his knees.

"I was once told by a psychiatrist that I need to relate more with other people, you know, so I can see things through their eyes…I thought about gouging Harley's eyes out and bringing them along but, when I tried that with the shrink, it didn't work…" I pull open the temple frame of her glasses "I also happen to like here eyes right where they are so," I lift up her glasses and show them to him "you think maybe these will work?"

He shakes his head at me, tears streaming down his cheeks as I put them on. I look at him through the lenses, lift the glasses up look at him without the lenses, pull them back down then shake my head. I take them off, wipe them down on my shirt, put them back on and repeat the process.

"I gotta tell you Deadman," I take them off my head and put them back in my pocket "I still don't see it."

"Please… Please." I get up from the couch and walk to where he rests on the floor, hands cuffed to the banister, legs (broken knees and all) splayed out in front of him and I sit straddling his hips.

I place my hands on either side of his face, "Shhhhhhhh." I put both my thumbs on his lips without moving my hands "You're going to kill the mood."

"I didn't know Mr. Joker. I didn't touch her. I didn-" his lips tremble under my thumbs.

I pat his cheek "I know, I know. I believe you, I do. Unfortunately that's not the point."

"It's not?" he's looking confused and more than a little scared (petrified is more like it).

I exhale sharply and roll my head back on my shoulders; I can feel the frustration bubbling in my gut (I will not rant… I will not rant… I will not rant). I push myself off his lap then begin to pace in front of his feet (All right, fine! I guess I'm ranting).

"I have been a bachelor for a very, very long time now, Dom The Dead Man, and that's never been a problem. No attachments. No distractions. No complications. It's been **great** ;I **like** it that way! But over the past weeks **she's** been… giving me those Moon Eyes! Buttering me up with that accent, crying on my shoulder, rubbing herself all over me, shooting Basty in the back and well it's given rise to …stirrings. I mean, I am just a man after all, right? Who can blame me? So now, I'm stuck with those -Unwanted! Upsetting! Confusing! _Distractions_ -that I can't get rid of! One second I'm fantasizing about stabbing her to death the next I've got a raging boner– do you know how annoying that is? Do I look like a pimply faced high school dweeb who just touched his first tit!" I stop pacing to take a deep breath and my head pulls to the side in a tic "Sorry, that was an over share and a complete side note."

I take another deep breath and discreetly pull the gun out of my chest holster. "The point is, Dead Man, she's mine to please and she's mine to break. You were sniffing around **my** waterhole and I don't like it."

I step closer and aim the glock at him.

"Please… please don't kill me! Please, I don't want to die. I'll do anything! Anything!" I lower my weapon and look him straight in the eyes; my lips pull up in a smile.

"Aaaanythiing?" My eyes wander to the puppy.

"Yes… please anything" Smirking at him I shoot the chain of his handcuffs then hand him another gun that I'd holstered at the back of my pants. I place the gun in my hand against his forehead "Shoot the puppy and you're free to go."

I'm delighted when, without a moment's hesitation, he lifts the gun and fires at the puppy. The gun pops lamely and a flag with the word 'BANG!' appears at the end of the barrel. He looks at the weapon confused then at me as I collapse into peels of laughter.

"Did you really think I'd give you a loaded weapon?" I guffaw some more "I mean… I'm crazy not stupid!"

I fire three shots in his chest then walk back to the couch to watch as he falls on the ground and blood fills up his lungs. When his body finally goes slack the tension immediately leaves my shoulders (aahh… that's better).

Anyway, as I was saying before, I do realize this is overkill but every once in a while even lions gotta piss on a few trees.

* * *

Abandoned, that was the first thing I felt when I woke up in hospital with my pain medication wearing off, my lower right side on fire and the dreary grey room empty. Then, when I turned to buzz for a nurse, I saw it sitting on the table beside me; it was a clear cylindrical flute vase holding a single purple tulip. There was a tag with blurry writing on the stem so I reached over, patting the table in search of my reading glasses. When I couldn't find them I simply pulled the tag off the stem of the flower and brought it right to my face; I mouthed the words as I made them out 'Feel better soon pumpkin – J". My lips curved up, he came to see me; he was here! The blush of pleasure that flourished in me was almost enough to completely numb out the pain for a while.

The pleasure settled to a quiet hum when I got a visit from the GCPD and their million questions; luckily I could tell them the truth about almost everything. It did eventually come down to 'Who shot The Batman?' though and I had to swallow the guilt that built in my throat to tell them that it must have been one of the gangsters. The police didn't even seem to suspect that it could possibly have been me so they accepted it. The questions kept coming though until my surgeon, Dr. Stacy Campbell ousted them out of my room.

According to Dr. Campbell, despite the excruciating pain, I was a 'very lucky woman'. I had sustained a minor gunshot wound to my lower right side; the doctor explained that, because of the low caliber of the weapon and the unlikely angle it had penetrated my body, not only had the bullet passed clean through me but it had also missed all my vital organs. They had stitched me up, drugged me up and would keep me for about week for observation but then I would be released. A flesh wound she called it; it didn't feel like a fucking flesh wound.

Well, six days later now and it still doesn't feel like a flesh wound, but at least I don't feel like I'm dying anymore. They loaded me up on pain meds, gave me some aftercare instruction and then practically dropkicked me out. I stagger out of the cab and readjust my purse strap, pick up the vase and tulip; then I make my way slowly down the short path towards home. I have almost made it to the front door when a shape materializes from the shadows; I immediately take a step back and switch my stance instinctively turning my body to make a smaller target and my hand clutches the flower vase, preparing to use it as a weapon.

"Dr. Quinzel, it's good to see you are doing well." The voice is deep and quite intimidating but I recognize it.

"Batman…" His words are polite, but as he emerges from the shadows his eyes take in the purple tulip in my clutch and I begin to see why some sites tagged him 'The Dark Knight'; his whole demeanor becomes threatening and, all of a sudden, I'm feeling very apprehensive. This was the man who scourged the streets at night, this was the man who terrified the criminals of Gotham and this was the man who tried to, and had on at least one occasion, beat Mr. J to a bloody pulp. Visions of him pounding his fist into Mr. J's face flash behind my eyes and every ounce of guilt I feel about shooting him evaporates into thin air; if I went back in time and had to make the decision all over again I wouldn't change a thing.

"Thank you. I'm glad you a-" the lie barely leaves my lips before he interrupts me.

"What happened at the restaurant Dr.?" My stomach sinks and I tap my fingers nervously on the vase.

"I don't know for sure… Everything was happening so f-" He comes forward and grabs ahold of my arm.

"Who shot me?" He studies me and I struggle to control my facial expressions.

He yanks me towards him "H-Hey!" I place my free hand on my wounded midriff "You're hurting me!" I play up the pain by curving my body inward and wincing. "Get your hands off me!"

The frown on his lips doesn't show any ounce of forgiveness but he does let go of my arm. He moves his face even closer to mine "Lie to me again.".

"I. Don't. Know. What. Happened!" I enunciate each word then push passed him "I spoke to the cops already asshole, if you have any questions go see them."

"I have, I've heard your story." I pull my keys out and fit them into the lock.

"So why are you here." I unlock the door and push it open.

"I wanted to see your face when you were telling it." He glances down at the vase in my hand suspiciously then grabs my arm and jerks his fist, pulling me again and slamming the door in the process.

"Listen lady! I know you had a gun that evening. Something isn't adding up and if I find out you had anything to do w-"

"What will you do?" I snap at him "Bust in my teeth?" he goes quiet momentarily.

"If I find out you had anything to do with it…I'll be back." He melts back into the shadows.

I open my door, mockingly doing my best terminator impression "I'll be back." I laugh nervously then, moving through my sitting room, memories of a shirtless, sweaty and deliciously tattooed Mr. J working out on my floor push away the tension.

 _Y_ ep, worth it.

I stop short in the doorway of my bedroom when I see a simple purple gift with a shimmery green ribbon and bow sitting on the bedside table. I walk to it and spot a little note with the words 'Welcome Home –J' scribbled on it.

My heart flutters in my chest and a blush covers my cheeks. Yea, definitely worth it.

Placing the gift on my bed I sit crossed legged in front it and excitedly rip the wrapping to shreds. Inside the box, on top of sheer white papers is another note that just says '10:00pm' and underneath that is… I reach into the papers and pull out an outfit. I throw my head back and laugh, it's a harlequin costume much like the one I bought the first night I went to The Circus. The red and black of this costume is made of leather though and it's obviously much more expensive than the one I bought. I glance at the clock, it's only 11am; it's going to be a long, long day.

* * *

The note said to be ready for 10pm, I was ready at 8 and then at 9:30 I can't bare staring in the mirror anymore, stressing over every little hair that is out of place. I stuff some cash and my cards into my bootleg and waltz out the door… only to pace outside for what felt like ages. When I look at my watch though, it's exactly 10pm when a two door, purple Maserati granturismo pulls up in front of my home; the top is down and I can see Mr. J sitting in the driver's seat.

He's wearing black pants, a black shirt and a gold suit jacket with black trimmings; the butterflies in my stomach go wild. I pull the door open and get in passenger seat when I look over his eyes are already on me. Not for the first time in his presence an almost overwhelming sense of rightness comes over me; I belong here. Grinning at him, I put my hand on his thigh and trail it upward to his groin while I move forward for a kiss. The kiss is silky soft and it starts a blush of heat between my thighs but before my hand reaches his crotch he pushes me back.

"Now, now pumpkin. We can't skip all the way to the third act. Whatever happened to a slow build?"

I roll my eyes at him much like I've seen him roll his at me "Fuck a slow build, I want you." His eyes darken with lust even as he laughs but when I try to kiss him he pushes me away again. Returning his attention to the road, he puts the stick shift into gear and takes off, whipping my body back into the seat. My heart races and I laugh from the exhilaration.

"Thank you." I mumble when I manage to get myself under control; I reach over and place my hand on his arm; he flicks his eyes at me but says nothing.

"For the flower" I look down at the harlequin costume "and the unconventional welcome home gift." That gets a smirk. I wrap my arms around his shoulders in a side hug and thinking of what he said about my accent I instinctively start playing it up for him "Ya know, for someone who is supposed ta be a stone cold killa you kinda hav'a soft side."

He snorts "No. I really don't."

"Yea ya dooo, you're ooey-gooey in the middle… just like puddin'!" His glance is less friendly this time but I ignore him.

"Yea, that's what ya are, puddin'. "

"Don't call me that." His smirk turns into a frown.

"You're my Puddin'." I cling to his arm.

"I should have stabbed you the first day we met."


	15. That Beautiful Crazy

**Next Chapter!**

 *****Important, there is a somewhat intense intimate scene at the end of this chapter where Joker gets a bit well... mean. I don't want to disturb anybody's delicate sensibilities so if you are easily offended or just simply would rather not know you can skip it. I'll mark where it begins.**

 **Also there may be typos... feel free to point them out. I proofread but this chapter is longer than usual and I'm exhausted so i likely missed a lot.**

 **Enjoy**

 **14**

Letting his arm go briefly I reach over to the dashboard and turn on the radio, lowering the volume so it's only loud enough to be background noise. I look out into the streets feeling rather heady and awestruck at my current circumstance. When we pull to a stop at a traffic light a handful of teens in a red mini pull in beside us obviously on a night out on the town. The teens, a group mainly of boys, are at first too engrossed with the car to notice its passengers; that changes quickly when Mr. J leans forward to see what exactly has caught my attention.

The excitement that shoots through the car is instant; the kids freak out, many moving backwards and bouncing in their seat. I laugh hysterically at them then, making a show of it for their benefit, I move into Mr. J's space and kiss him deeply. He kisses me back just as deeply. When I look back at the kids the phones are being pointed in our direction; Mr. J gives me enough time to blow them a kiss before he speeds off, ignoring the red light. For some reason though, the phone flash brings me back down to reality; what are the chances that Batman would see a picture of me with Mr. J posted online? Connecting the dots if he does won't be much of a task.

"Batman visited me again today." I blurt, "He was pissed off that he got shot." I look over at Mr. J but he only looks amused. "He's said if he finds out it was me he'd be back."

He rolls his eyes still smiling "Oh Batsy, he's such a drama queen. It was just _one_ little bullet."

"Puddin' what if he talks to-"

"Don't worry about it." He interrupts as he pulls into a reserved parking spot in front of The Circus. He hasn't even put the car into park before Frost appears; Frost's eyes flick towards me, he nods a greeting then quickly looks back at Mr. J. They fall into conversation about something but my attention is drawn to the radio and I turn the volume up.

" _A young man, identified as Dom Cuevas 26, was found shot dead in his home early Wednesday morning. Cuevas, who had been interning at the Elizabeth Arkham Asylum, was reported to have been assaulted by Joker, also known as the Clown Prince of Crime, just prior to his recent shootout with police. It is currently uncertain whether the two incidents are related however the GCPD are –"_

He killed him.

I feel myself tear up and, without much thought I let myself out of the car; my stomach churns, my body shakes, my palms are sweating and I dry heave. There is a group of people walking towards us, all of them in various costumes. One of them is holding a bat, a plain wooden bat with a black grip; the whole world disintegrates around it and my hands clench as I walk towards it.

* * *

I push the engine start/stop button until the purring completely dies off then I step out of the car and slam the door.

"I want good news, Frost." I reach into the car and pull out my cane before taking a few steps away. "I'm owed a rodent." I continue while still walking away; holding the cane by its purple shaft I point its gold accented handle at Jonniejonnie, "If the boys are too lily-livered to go after the one with wings, they had better provide the one who squeaked."

"The boys are …uh… upset about-"

I slam my cane down "They're _upset_?" I place both my hands on the handle and put my weight on it "Do I look TICKLED to you?"

"N- uh- boss?" His eyes linger behind me and his hand moves deliberately towards his concealed weapon.

I whirl around just in time to see Harley point a bat (not the muscly kind) right at my face, her moist blue eyes are burning with anger (very sexy) and there is a wild light shinning in them (very, _very_ sexy).

What is it now? Is she going to swing it at me? What? What!

"You killed him!" her voice booms at me catching the attention of just about everybody within hearing range; they were no longer inconspicuously taking peeks at me (routine), they were now openly staring at us (exhilarating).

I feel myself grin at her (yes _that_ grin), the one that makes people beg, the one that makes brave men tremble, the one that makes stone cold killers cry; yes, _that_ one. " I neither confirm nor deny."

Her eyes are still wild "You..." she whispers "You!" it's a yell this time, she doesn't look afraid (god she's beautiful). She makes a noise at the back of her throat; it's a sound born from a combination of rage and frustration (animal!). A few of the boys I keep on payroll (Joker Army to the rescue) come rushing out of the club, they must have heard about the display. One of the boys points a gun at her (the nerve!), he begins to shout an order (who does he think he is?); I throw a clenched fist into the side of his face (Aaahhh) and I beam as he lands unconscious on the pavement. That gets the message across quite clearly; all unholstered weapons are swiftly holstered.

Gripping the bat in both hands, she stomps back to my Maserati (my spotless, brand new, custom, 2016 Granturismo convertible btw) and brings the bat down hard on the hood. She explodes into a frenzy bashing the hood repeatedly, arm muscles bunching attractively as she smashes in the headlights. The laughter bubbles up my throat, she stops to glare at me, JonnieJonnie watches us curiously and the whole world is quiet.

Apparently egged on by my mirth she diverts her attention back to my car (did I mention it's brand new?) and gives herself over to the chaos of destruction (be still my beating heart). She works her way around my (brand new) car, hair whipping wildly, arms working passionately, thigh muscles flexing fetchingly until the whole thing has been properly worked over. Having done as much damage as she can, she hops acrobatically on top of the warped hood (intriguingly arousing) and takes her savagery out on the windscreen. My pants feel a bit tighter than they were a little while ago; why would she keep all that crazy (all that beautiful crazy) subdued, chained, trapped underneath the surface?

Seeming to have worked off her anger, she jumps down off the hood of my (no longer brand new or spotless) car, drops the bat and just stands there. She looks bewildered, breathless and absolutely stunning as I take a second to wipe the tears of mirth from my eyes. I stroll towards her, pausing only to pick up the bat (no pun intended) then continue to make my way around the car inspecting her work. The crowd is silent as the grave as I complete my assessment and walk back over to her.

I point at the car "You missed a spot." I offer her the bat.

"Wha?" I grip the bat tighter in my closed fist and thrust it forcefully into her chest. Her breath whooshes out but she takes it from me then turns to face her (expressive) work of art.

"You. Missed. A. Spot." I point at the rearview mirror that remains undamaged on the driver's side of the car. She doesn't move so I shove her.

"You are getting on daddy's nerves, pumpkin." I advise her when she doesn't smash it in instantly. She reacts with one vicious swing that sends the mirror rocketing through the air towards the crowd, the mass scatters in a frantic attempt to get out of the objects way; no one gets hit (pity).

Speckles of sweat have caused the black paint around her eyes to bleed into the white on her face creating a smudge of grey cheekbones.

"You lost something." I pick up the bat that she has once again dropped on the floor and hand it back to her "Crazy is a good look on you pumpkin pie." I caress a lock of her now unkempt hair behind her ear then I clench my fingers around her neck and pull her lips onto mine; my other hand goes to her round ass and I crush her hips into me. She moans into my mouth when she feels the still discreet (yet growing) hardness in my pants and she grips my shirt pleadingly.

I use my grasp of her neck to push her away "We do need to address your bad behavior though, don't we?"

I take ahold of her bicep and maneuver her through the throng of people, into the private entrance of The Circuis, past the packed dance floor, past all manner of dubious activities and into my own private lounge area.

I shove her unceremoniously onto a couch and make my way to the minibar, "What are you going to do?" her accented voice wavers minutely (what indeed). I pull out two snifter glasses, fill them up with whiskey (Macallan 1946 FYI), down only one and fill it up again.

I look over my shoulder at her sitting there on the plush white couch in silence (very very wisely), her eyes wide with apprehension and (annoyingly) breathtaking.

I offer her a glass of whiskey "Mr. J, I'm sorry about your car." shaking her head in a 'no' gesture her voice wavers; she gets the message and takes the glass when I glare. After a few more seconds of my glaring she attempts a little sip, she gags at the taste and tries to bring the liquor away from her lips; I push up on the bottom of her glass with my finger. The whiskey starts pouring out faster than she can drink it; thick streams of amber course down her mouth and throat (delicious). I take the glass away from her fingers and replace it with the other full sifter. She doesn't hesitate this time to down the liquor; she's resigned herself to the fact that she has no choice. A satisfied warmth spreads curiously through my chest as I watch her chug it.

Now you and I both know I'm no psychiatrist, but I think we can both agree that my particular disposition provides me with some insight into the mentally perturbed(for lack of a better word) **.** As I once mentioned, pumpkin has had a chaotic childhood, it was traumatic; possibly a lot more traumatic than she likes to acknowledge.

"That dazzling outburst was how you got your daddy to pay attention to you, to your _feelings_ , when you were little." I don't need to ask; I know it's true. Her eyes immediately fill with tears. She moves to wipe them away but I stop her, taking the opportunity to place a series of kisses on her teary eyes, down her cheeks, past the corner of her mouth then to her throat, where I spend a little more time enjoying the blended taste of whiskey and salty skin. She moans even as more tears streak down her cheeks.

"You broke his shit...You broke _my_ shit. Congratulation darlin', you got my attention and now some discipline is in order, don't you think?" She shifts (was that a nod?).

I stand up and offer her my hand.

* * *

 **Feel free to skip this part**

My already fragile emotions are immediately overloaded when he mentions my father. Childhood memories, memories best left forgotten, linger closer to the surface than they have for a very long time; I smush them down. I submerge myself in the growing mixture of desire and violence swirling in Mr.J's eyes; it pulls at me like a vacuum into space.

He offers me his hand and I take it; it's only while getting to my feet that I become aware of the stinging pain in my abdomen. I may have torn stitches during my outburst. It's also only when I trip over my own feet that I realize I'm completely loaded; Mr. J chuckles at my incoordination.

He leads me to what looks like a stripper pole and leaves me there, momentarily disappearing from my vision only to reappear with a pair of long handcuffs. He passes the cuffs through a set of loops built onto the poles then, his eyes riveted on my features, he locks each handcuff harshly around my wrists. The metal is cold and hard, the cuffs are too tight and my wrists will probably bleed if I struggle. I fist my hands that are now suspended at shoulder height and kiss him on the lips; he only allows a quick peck before he moves behind me.

He pushes my head forward so I'm looking down at my feet then he nudges my legs so they are shoulder width apart. I can tell from his shadow on the floor that he moves back, probably to get a better look at me. before he comes closer again.

"Everybody that has ever stood here ended up dead, you know." He places his hands on either of my hips and pulls them outward, so my spine is curved down and my ass is thrust out. My heart is racing, my breathing picks up and I close my eyes.

He leans over me so his chest is flat against my back and his groin is pushed against my behind. I can feel the rigid organ in his pants throbbing against my clothed ass when puts his lips against my ear "Of course I've never liked the view as much as I do right now."

He pulls away from me then inserts his fingers into the back of my collar; I enjoy the silky feel of his digits caressing the base of my neck. At first I think he's going to grab hold of my neck but instead he fists the fabric and wrenches it apart. The material strains then tears, leaving me bare from my neck right down to my black G-string.

"Nice…" the word bring a delighted blush to my face. Shifting so he is standing to the side of me he strokes the sensitive skin just above my butt before a loud crack echoes through the room.

"Uh!" Pain flashes through my behind making my whole body jolt and agitating at my already aching bullet wound. I try to create some distance between us by shuffling away from him.

"Get back into position Harley!"

My hands are trembling; I'm not sure if it's from fear, excitement or muscle exhaustion. "Mr. J-"

"Shut up and get back into position!" This time the slap comes at my face, it isn't hard, his angle doesn't give him much leverage but it's enough to cause another jolt. My breathing is coming out in puffs now, regardless I quickly do as I'm told, dropping my head forward and spreading my legs just as before.

"Good girl." He runs his finger along the seam of my ass cheeks pulling the G-string material out in the process. A harsh tug sways me backwards and I think he's ripped that as well, it's confirmed when I see the triangle that just covered my pussy seconds ago swing between my legs. He moves directly behind me again and uses his hands to spread my ass and pussy lips.

"Wet." It's an accusation and it causes a wave of embarrassment. He pushes his finger easily inside me and I wiggle my ass, hoping to get more friction. All I get for my effort though is another painful slap. He inserts another finger in me, then a third as he kneels behind me.

My arms are burning from the fatigue now and my back is strained but it feels… good.

He places his mouth against my pussy and flicks his tongue in tandem with his jerking fingers. A moan slips through my lips and he pulls both his fingers and his tongue away abruptly; they are quickly replaced with a harsh slap. The slap isn't on my back this time, no his vertically turned hand comes down hard on my pussy lips and the tips of his index finger lashes against my clit. I feel the wetness gush from me even as I moan in pain. Mr. J laughs then he brings his hand down again and again and again. My eyes are tearing up but my wetness is dripping on the floor.

"S-Stop…" I barely manage to get out. He grabs a hold of my hair and jerks it backward.

"I " slap "said" slap "shut" slap "up!" I sob quietly, wanting to rub my legs together to relieve some of the unfulfilled pleasure but I don't dare to.

"Do you know why I'm doing this?" I open my mouth to respond then, hesitant of speaking after he has so clearly told me to shut up, I close my mouth without saying a word.

"Good girl." I hear his zipper come down and I close my eyes in anticipation but he doesn't push into me like I want him to. Instead he steps close to me and runs the tip of his cock on my pussy lips; then he presses between them, he nudges my entrance but doesn't penetrate and when I try to push onto him I get a hard slap on my back.

My fingers are tingling now, my wrists are raw from the cuffs, my arms are almost numb, my back and abdomen are aching, and the sensations zinging between my legs are indescribable.

My whole body is in pain and yet I love it.

His dick appears between my thighs and I watch as he uses it to rub my clit gently, massaging and spreading my wetness on his member. Then he pulls away and with no warning he spreads my ass cheeks and thrusts hard pushing right into me.

I scream at the pain this time and grip the chains of the handcuffs.

"Shhh pumpkin." He kisses my shoulders and neck softly then, passing his arms underneath my shoulders he grips both my wrists and begins fucking me in earnest.

My vagina clenches at nothing, the moisture continues to drip on the carpet; he isn't even trying to please me anymore. His movements are selfish, they are hard and fast; I realize through my fog of confused pain and pleasure that there wasn't ever a chance of him allowing me release. This _was_ a punishment fuck.

The thrusting goes on and my frustration mounts until finally he groans; the sound is so full of satisfaction that it leaves me envious and more than a little bitter. He pulls away; I hear the rustle of his clothes and a zipper before he pats my ass affectionately.

He comes around to lift up my head. "Now, I have to go meet up with the boys, pumpkin and I want you to stay here and think about what you've done."

"Please…please don't leave me chained here like this." I ask when he looks like he's about to leave.

He stops, his features are smooth but I sense that he's waging some internal battle. He rolls his eyes at me, or maybe at himself, then disappears. I think he's left but he comes back a few seconds later with keys. He unlocks the cuffs and when I prove to have a hard time walking he picks me up and carries me to the couch.

He points to a closed door at the corner of the room. "There is a full bathroom in there. You can use it. I'll have Jonnieboy bring you something to wear."

He places a goodbye kiss on my lips before he leaves.


	16. Thug Life Motherfuckers

**Hello all, here is the next chapter. Enjoy! Also, once again, I apologize in advance for typos.**

 **15**

Taking a few deep breaths I push myself off the couch and hobble painstakingly towards to the closed door he'd indicated. The doctors had warned me against getting soap scum, or really just anything other than water and disinfectant, on the stitches but I feel icky from the sweat and my muscles are aching. I push the bathroom door open and reach into the blackness of the room to drag my hand along the wall; I feel a switch there and flick it. The lights blink on and I'm staring into a very modern, very stylish, bathroom.

The first thing that catches my attention is what looks like a very large, emerald colored soup bowl in the center of the room. It's a bathtub sitting in the middle of an island of grey stone; despite having just been thoroughly owned by Joker, the first thing that flashes in my mind is him reclined in it, his emerald hair blending with the marble and me rocking on top of him. I blink repeatedly to snap myself out of it; then look quickly at the shower to my left, I drop the tatters of my harlequin costume to the floor and observe myself in the wall to wall, floor to ceiling mirrors at the other end of the room. I'm a mess, hair all over the place, face paint smudged, the beginnings of bruises on my arms and what I can see of my back; I've obviously been manhandled, battered and well used. I finger a bruise on my arm and sigh at the ache; I feel decadent and magnificent. Winking at myself in the mirror I push open the glass door and turn on the shower.

After a full hour of steamy bliss, I wrap myself in a plush white towel that I pull from a shelf and walk into the other room. Short of driving to my house and snooping through my own closet or ripping them off a hooker, I don't know where puddin' thinks Frost is going to get clothes from at this time of night. I giggle at the thought; considering Frost does report to Mr. J, I wouldn't be surprised if there is a stunned hooker roaming naked at the nearest street corner.

When I see the dress laid out on the couch I know that Frost definitely didn't get it off a hooker; I rip the tag of it and get dressed quickly. I mourn my shredded underwear and am forced to forgo my bra because of the dress' deep V-neck and non-existent back. Not bothering to look at myself in the mirror, I pass my fingers through my already drying hair and head for the door into the club. I have no clue where I am going; thankfully Frost is waiting for me by the door.

"Dr. Quinzel-" I smile warmly at his inexpressive features.

"Harley." I correct him "You can call me Harley." He shifts on his feet.

"Mr. J would not appreciate that." I start to laugh then realize from his stone expression that he is, in fact, being very serious. Pleasure flutters through me.

"Drop the doctor then, Miss Quinzel is fine."

He nods and gestures for me to follow him "This way."

Puddin' spots me right away at the entrance of the small room Frost leads me to.

"Honey, darlin', baby, sugar, pumpkin pie." He gestures me over even as the room goes quiet "Come here, baby." He pats the seat beside him "Come to daddy." I flush furiously at the endearments then shrug off my embarrassment, it seems I will be getting a lot of attention if I'm going to be around Mr. J. I walk over and sit carefully beside him; I still wince at the aching in my behind though and puddin' smiles at me. It's not a mean smile, I can tell from the warm glow in his eyes; it's just a silent acknowledgement of our shared experience.

"Now, boys." He sounds pleasant "Any more starin' and I'll have to start spooning eyes out of faces." He places his hand on my thigh. A low hum of back and forth starts again in the room, something about a machine gun; I touch Mr. J's arm to get his attention.

"Mmm?"

"Are you still mad at me puddin'?" I whisper trying to keep the conversation confidential.

He touches my cheek "Mad? Do I look mad?" he laughs and waves his hand in the air "No, no, wait. Wait a second. Don't answer that." He chuckles and then amends "Do I look angry?"

I giggle at his silliness and shake my head "No, but earlier- "

"Earlier I was not angry."

"But your car!" I glance down "And then in the room you…" I stop talking not daring even to whisper what I'm thinking surrounded by unknown men. His grin turns wolfish when I make reference to our sexcapade in the other room; my body reacts immediately to the smile and I inch closer.

* * *

I chug down half my cup of brandy and watch as the clown schmoozes with his bitch. She is all laughs and blushes for him, beaming at him like some brainless pet bimbo begging for cock. This is what Bix died for? He died because this whack job likes busting a nut in that ho? The shootout we had with the police would never have happened if she hadn't been there! This crazy fucking clown would'a never shot Bix if she hadn't been there!

"Dis bitch?" My boys beside me tense, they say they're fearless but they all shakin' when this crazy white boy sneezes. "You smoked our boy for bustin' a cap in dis bitch? " I pour the rest of the brandy down my throat; Mac D puts his hand on my shoulder but I shrug it off.

"Bix was WEK, he was a brother and now he dead!"

The clown doesn't say anything so I stand up and bang my hands on the table; his boy Frost moves towards me but stops when J waves him away.

"Come on bitch stand up and show us what's got J so hard up for your pussy."

She doesn't move at first and when the bitch looks at J to save her all he does is gesture for her to get up. She hesitates only very briefly but then, like a good little pet, she does what she's told. I give her a good look over, and then signal for her to turn around; she glances at her man and when he doesn't react she turns.

"She's a fine girl, Clown." I move around the table towards her "Bend over."

"Puddin'?" He taps his hand on the counter but doesn't even look at her. The boys told me to watch myself around him, they said that he's a hard man to read, that he is deadly and unpredictable… He seems like just a man to me, a man who's outnumbered and outgunned especially now that his boy has left the room.

The bimbo puts her hands on the back of her seat and bends over.

"Nice… I can see what the deal is J. She is good enough to eat, isn't she?" I reach over to run my hand over her ass but before I can touch her severe pain explodes in my head. My vision has gone black, my body is limp and for a second I can't hear a thing; then gradually it all starts coming back.

"Now, now…" I recognize the mocking singsong lilt of J's dry voice immediately and as my vision sharpens I realize that he's slammed my head into the table. The shock rocks me, that motherfucker is _fast_ , I never even saw him move. He waves something round at the boys, it looks like… a grenade? Where in the fuck! What kind of messed up motherfucker walks around with a grenade in his pockets?

"Let's drop those guns friends, there is nothing like a well aimed misfire to bring things into perspective." My stomach sinks as I catch the look in his eyes; he bursts out in hysterics and waves the armed grenade in front of us. The sound of weapons clattering to the floor is immediate.

I never understood why the boys held so much fear for this freak; I get it now. Those are the eyes of a man who doesn't only kill for survival; they are the eyes of a man who kills for the thrill of it. They are the eyes of a man who would just as quickly shoot me in the head and to hell with the consequences as blow this room to nothing with him still in it.

I grip the table and say a quick prayer. I may have just killed us all.

* * *

I tap one hand on the table as I clench the safety lever and unpin the grenade in my pocket with the other. I can practically feel the boys heating up (not that I blame them) as they stare at Harley bent over the chair. That's understandable; honestly I get it. She wouldn't still be alive if I didn't. I wouldn't have begrudged them peek (just a little one though), I would have let it go. This however, this is adding insult to injury. They lose my drugs, waste my money, lose my rat and now they're ogling my girl (urgh soo clichéd)?

I glance over at Harley who is still bent over the chair and watch as the goon's grubby fingers move towards her ass; the fury shoots through me like rocket fuel. Kicking my seat back I grab hold of his head and slam it into the table even as I pull the armed grenade out of my pocket. His head connecting with the silverware (and the hardwood table underneath) sends a ruckus of sound into the air and the boys all jump to their feet drawing weapons.

I watch as they pull out handguns… handguns (yawn)? What is the world coming to, I ask you, when you can't even count on thugs and criminals to be explosive? Is a little creativity too much to ask for (bazooka anyone)?

"Now, now…" I press the man's head down into the table as I wave the armed grenade in front of his crew. "Let's drop those guns friends, there is nothing like a well aimed misfire to bring things into perspective."

Eyes go wide when they realized what I'm waving around in front of their faces; one by one they drop their guns to the floor. That's right bitches, you got a gun and I got a hand grenade (Thug Life Motherfuckers!). The cackling cracks out of me uncontrollably even as I see the men in the room back away; Harley, on the other hand, she gets closer (what a good girl).

"Harley girl, why don't you come over here and hold this grenade for me?" She shuffles her feet and ends up right beside me but doesn't reach out to hold it (hmm, not so good after all).

"Honestly puddin', I'd rather not." Her voice is barely a whisper and my head whips towards her.

"Did that sound like a request?" I snap, "Because I guarantee you it wasn't!"

Her trembling hand quickly reaches out to the grenade "Two hands baby doll," her second trembling hand comes out "and make sure you hold the lever down. You wouldn't want to kill us all accidentally would?" I cackle at that as well "Although, really, why not? If we're going to go out, might as well go out with a bang!"

Just as I have her hands securely around the bomb, JonnieJonnie reappears with an automatic assault rifle hanging over his shoulder (faith in criminality restored). He takes the rifle in his hand and points it at the boys.

"You see kids, I'm not sorry about your boy, what was it again… Twix? Flix?"

"BIX!" the man smooched on the table growls.

"... whatever." I deadpan "And I can spend all night lecturing you about playing with fire… or messing with the bull… or kicking the hornet's nest… or ogling Joker's girl. But I won't."

I turn to Harley "You may want to close your eyes for this pumpkin' pie." Her whole body tenses as she squeezes her eyes shut, brings her hands up to her face and presses the grenade to her lips (…cute).

Clasping the spoon like a knife I jab it into the goon's eyeball and he shrieks (my eardrums… sheesh!) "I will simply take my pound of flesh." it makes a slimy sucking sound when it bursts out and blood gushes onto my fingers and the table. I hold the man's eye in between my thumb and index finger as he wails on the silverware.

"To answer your question, banshee, she is good enough to eat and she's rather delicious too. The real question is, though, are you?" I stuff his bloody eyeball in his parted jaws and jam them shut; there is an audible pop before a clear viscous liquid gushes from his lips. I hold his jaw shut until I see him swallow convulsively then I let him go and flare my arms wide.

"And let that be a lesson to you!" I tell them cheerfully as I walk towards Harley. She almost drops the grenade when she opens her eyes and sees the mess I've made of her spectator's face. Luckily for us I was around to take the grenade from her pretty little shaking hands.

"Oh my god." She places her hand on her belly and her face starts to go green so I take a hold of her hand.

"Shh, it's ok pumpkin'. Hmm?" I use the hand clasping the grenade to move her face back to mine; it leaves a little blood mark on her cheek. I kiss her on her plump pink lips "Look at Daddy."

Her eyes come back to me and I smile "Ferrari or Lamborghini?"

"Um… what?"

I kiss her shuddering lips again "Ferrari or Lamborghini?" Her quivering lips stop quivering and she doesn't look back at the mess of a face still bleeding on the table.

Her lips curl up "Mmmm… Lamborghini!"

I nod and lead her out the door; as we reach the threshold of the room I look over my shoulder and toss the grenade towards the boys (oops). The yelling starts and I slam the door shut; we dash away just as a loud bang sends the unhinged door flying through the air.

Harley's eyes are wide as she stares at the now demolished room; at least she's not looking green (…baby steps…).

She turns her wide-eyed gaze onto me, speechless (not necessarily a bad thing)

"What?" I chuckle "I had to do something with the damn thing!" She blinks and I throw my arm around her shoulder "Chinese?"


	17. 200,000kgs of Nutmeg

**Hello all...this chapter took a little longer than usual. Hope you enjoy it. Let me know if I should start labeling POV changes, there seems to be a growing number of POVs. Thanks for reviews, likes, follows and suggestions. Excuse the typos.**

 **Candy Momo - Yes there will definitely be an ACE Chemicals scene :)**

 **I've made a few little adjustments/additions to the chapter. Nothing major.**

 **16**

To say that WEK did not take lightly to having the leaders of their organization blown to bits because of some tight squeeze would be an understatement; the streets were buzzing with whispers of impending retaliation and the gang's sworn motto of blood for blood. I had mentioned this to Mr. J but, much like I had expected him to be, he was unconcerned. So, while I remained on full alert and made sure the boys were armed to the teeth with every weapon available in our arsenal, Mr. J was sequestered in his office. Devising God knows what to do to God knows whom.

As little as I saw him, I had no doubt that he was plotting something; I'd worked with him long enough to be able to smell the shit he was concocting before it actually hit the fan. I wasn't in the least bit shocked two days ago when he came down the stairs from his office and into the common area of the Joker Gang hideout with an air that I could only describe as 'bright-eyed-and-bushy-tailed'. I stood to attention immediately, dropping the skeleton of the dismantled pistol I had been cleaning onto the table in front of me.

"Boss?"

"JonnieJonnie! Just the person I wanted to see." He hopped over the few remaining steps and leaned backward into he railing "I want a gift delivered to Gotham Zoo before it's opening."

His smile widened and I felt the apprehension sink into my gut. "A gift?"

He grinned at me "We need to have 100,000kgs of nutmeg delivered to the Gotham Zoo… mmm…no make that 200,000kgs. Better more than not enough. I also need you to acquire all the unlock codes to the animal pens and have them programed into my phone." He paused grin still wide, eyes still fixed on me as if daring me to ask the question that _any_ sane person would have wanted to throw out.

' _What in the fuck do you want 200,000kgs of nutmeg for and where in the fuck am I supposed to get it.'_ The question resounded in my head but I didn't dare ask; another thing I've learned about Mr. J is never, ever under any circumstance question an odd request. A motherfucker would 100% get maimed for that. Careful not to let my bewilderment show on my face I responded, "Yea Mr. J. will do."

He his face fell briefly then he flared his arms out "Excellent! Killer Croc is hiding out in the zoo he must be feeling right at home haha,… set up a meeting with him will you?" I nodded "Oh and Jonnieboy get me a Double Big Mac with fries… I'm famished." I watched him make his way back up the stairs before I found my voice.

"Did you want to upsize the fries boss?" After all a hungry Joker was a moody Joker.

"We all set Jonnieboy?" Mr. J's voice snaps me back to the present and I look at his reflection in the rearview. He's got his trademark snifter of whisky in his hand and his eyes fixed out the window; I nod even though I know he's not looking. Yea, we are all set and he knows we are. Mr. J isn't the kind of boss who barks orders, he likes to get his hands dirty and he was much more involved in organizing this little trip of insanity then I was.

"Yea boss," I reach over to the front passenger seat and pick up his phone then pass it over to him. He smiles at me as he takes it out of my hand.

"And that's why _you_ are not dead JonnieJonnie."

I smile at him.

* * *

Stepping down from the Denali I glance quickly at Frost, the man's complexion has changed drastically since we left home base a little while ago. Poor, poor Jonnieboy; between you and me, I don't think he likes Killer Croc very much. I'm not sure what it is, but I wouldn't be too surprised if it has something to do with the cannibalism (humans yumyum) and Killer Croc's choice of décor (carcass chic). Even the most hardened criminals can be very sensitive about things like baby toe canapés and cadaver cushions.

"You're looking rather green Jonnieboy… Is everything alright?"

He grips the lapels of his jacket and straightens them then he pats at the revolver I know he has concealed in his pocket. "Ha… that make you feel better Jonnieboy?"

He half nods and swallows thickly "Uh… yea. Sorry boss. Croc just gives me the hibbie jibbies."

Watching Jonnieboy's growing anxiety I'm briefly unsure whether to be flattered or insulted that he's obviously more at ease with me than Killer Croc.

" _Croc_ gives you the hibbie jibbies?" He pauses in his walk around the car and I can see the metaphorical light bulb come on in his head. He knows he's said something wrong but he's not quite sure what; his eyes scour my face and when I continue to stare at him unblinkingly he shifts uncomfortably (much better). He gathers his courage and continues to make his way around the car; having already decided to give him the benefit of the doubt I smile and pat him on the shoulder when he passes by me.

"Heh…Just kidding! " I walk towards the large metal door, lean my head onto it and laugh loudly as I bang against the frame.

The peephole swishes open and a pair of large brown eyes widen as they take in my chalk white face and blood red lips (peek-a-boo). Wordlessly, he closes the peephole, and when he yanks the door open we are blasted with the sweet fragrance of decay.

"Eau de death anyone? You smelt it here fiiiirst." I jest as I step in, JonnieJonnie retches behind me and, surprised by a gag of my own (no mean feat I assure you), my snorted giggle is cut short. I take a second to get my body (the traitor) under control, as we are lead farther back into the simmering cesspool of fetor.

We turn down a long dank hallway; the only source of light is the glow shinning through the crack at the base of a closed door on the other end of the passage. The stench gets thicker the closer we get and when the flunky opens the door I'm prepared for it this time. I chuckle at the putrid smell even as Jonnieboy starts heaving again. Killer Croc's green skin comes into view; he is picking his extremely sharp teeth (slightly jealous) beside the scraps of what seems to have been a young woman (mmm mmm good).

"Ah Croc! I love what you've done with the place…" I gesture around at the various bodies hanging off meat hooks "it has a certain je ne sais quoi about it."

"NrrrrNrrrr." His chuckle is a growl deep in his chest as he comes towards me still picking at thick pieces of young girl stuck between his teeth (pucker up ladies) "Joker, we got your shipment of nutmeg. "

"Ha! Great! And?" I flop down on the worn couch in the corner of the room and push away a partially eaten corpse that tips over on me.

"Done, mixed into the food… I gotta ask though - "

"Why the nutmeg?" I finish for him; he nods at me. Yes, I'm certain you are all wondering the very same thing. Well, let me ask you, have you ever heard the expression nuttier than nutmeg? No? …Yea, me neither... I lean back in the couch, stretch out my legs in front of me and pet the blond hair of the corpse beside me. JonnieJonnie stifles another wretch and I snort.

Well, my captive audience, you may be surprised to know that nutmeg is quite a potent hallucinogenic (insert gasp/shock/dismay) and can be the root cause of some seriously nasty trips (trust me, I know). So a few days ago, while I sat down twiddling my thumbs wondering how to best piss off / exact my revenge on Batsy (bestest buddy evar) I came up with the most wonderful idea.

I'm sorry? Did you just ask me what that could possibly be? Well, friends you just ask yourself what Joker could possibly want 200,000kgs of nutmeg, uncaged animals and 80,000 excited visitors.

"Hehe. Because nutmeg is funnier than bath salts." Both JonnieJonnie (still very green) and Croc (also very green) look confused.

I get up and walk towards him pulling a bundle of cash from my pocket and handing it to him "You interested in adding some meat to your locker along with the Gs in your pocket Croc?"

"Eh?" he responds

I smile wide at him "Ever heard of the West End Killers?"

* * *

The Mayor is up on the podium making some ridiculous speech about the 'importance' and 'significance' of having such a large Zoo open in Gotham. I roll my eyes; Bruce Wayne had received an invitation to be a guest speaker but he knew he was only being used to attract more media attention to the event. He refused to attend; the last thing he wanted was to be forced to mingle with insipid, vacuous debutants or chest thumping, pompous assholes just to keep up appearances. I showed up as Batman though, I told Jim Gordon that I would, I also told him to expect the worst because Joker would be here too.

I've been looking everywhere for him since I arrived, I know he will be here, I can feel it in my bones. I adjust my footing on the window ledge, crouch down and tweak the strength of the high-tech binoculars in my mask. The sun is beating down on me and the thick impermeable material of the batsuit isn't doing much to diminish the stifling heat. My discomfort doesn't matter though because there is nothing that I am surer of than Joker's presence at the opening of the Gotham Zoo. It makes me my skin crawl to think that I could be so in tune with a man, if he could still be called a man, like Joker.

It's my fault, I'm too distracted trying to spot Joker in the crowd to notice the animals; when I finally do notice them it's already too late. Their cages simultaneously swing open and all hell breaks loose.

Gordon and the Mayor are still standing up on the podium when Joker appears beside them; my heart immediately starts to race and my eyes narrow in on him.

"Hello Gotham, where are you all going?" He sprays bullets "Don't you wanna watch? It's feeeeedddiinnnggg time."

My fists ball in anticipation of the coming beat down, his laughter sends my adrenaline skyrocketing and I jump from the ceiling using my cape to glide down towards him.

* * *

Taking another quick glance at the news coverage of the opening of the Gotham Zoo I reach down, locking my knees and easily placing the palms of my hands on the floor. I've been given a few days off of work to help promote the healing of the bullet wound and to allow me enough time to 'manage my emotions' after my 'traumatic experience'. I roll my eyes and relax into my stretch; at least I haven't had to deal with Dr. Schumer.

I haven't seen my puddin' in a few days though and, well, I miss him. A lot. Those cunning blue eyes, that pale tattooed skin and that wide wicked smile; what's not to miss? Exhaling, I shift over to my right, ignoring the sharp pain in my abdomen and placing my forehead on my right knee then I shift over and do the same with my other knee. Standing up I glance at the muted TV and pause, staring in awe at the pandemonium that has erupted on the screen.

The people who had, just seconds ago, been milling around or amassing around the podium to listen to the speakers are stampeding aimlessly in all directions. The animals, free somehow, have gone crazy; and anything in their way has become a target. They are knocking people over, attacking each other and tearing people apart; it's like a scene from a horror movie. That's when I see him, Mr.J, he uses his machine gun to knock the Mayor over as he climbs up the steps of the podium towards Commissioner Gordon.

I can't hear a word of what he's saying put the camera gives me a close up of his face. He's in the classic Joker war paint that I've seen online so many times; pale skin painted paler the 'damaged' tattoo barely visible, lips the color of blood and his green hair slicked back. His lips move silently as he waves the machine gun, spraying bullets into the crowd. When the camera pans out once more to show the surrounding area, I'm again struck by the utter mayhem puddin' has thrown the world into.

In the middle of it all, there he is, standing on his podium, raining down death, untouched like a God among men. An understanding comes over me then, he belongs with the animals; he is one of those large predacious beasts that clamp their jaws down on the throats of their prey and lie carelessly as the their helpless victim kicks out it's final breaths. He's a born predator imbued with the strength, resilience and utter brutality of a nature that feeds off the lives of others. He's terrifying. He's horrifying. He's obscene; he's an obscenity so excessive, so extreme that it ascends beyond obscene and metamorphoses into beauty.

My heart skips a beat as I'm overcome with the realization of where my attraction to him has been leading me. I've needed nothing more than to be around him since the very first time I set my eyes on him. The little time I'd spent trying to put distance between us had been painful and every moment we've spent together since actually _being_ together has been… indescribable. Even the little discomforts he's put me through have been a twisted kind of pleasure. I place my hand on my racing heart as I watch him cackling silently, gun still firing wildly.

He _is_ beautiful and I am falling completely, undeniably, maybe even madly, in love with this beautiful fucked up man.

The large shadow of a bat falls across Mr. J's face just as I reach my hand over to run it along the screen; the bat tackles Mr. J to the ground and I leap up to my feet. Ignoring my itching, aching stitches I make a mad dash to my front door; I stop dead in my tracks and run back past the sitting room and into my bedroom. I pick up my newly acquired baseball bat from where it's leaning on the wall beside my bathroom door and dash out again. I make sure to grab my car keys off the counter as I run out the front door; it'll take me 15 minutes to get to the zoo if I break every single one of Gotham's traffic laws. That's alright; I'll make my puddin' proud.


	18. Not just for kids

**Hello all, thanks for reviews/likes/comments. Enjoy and excuse the typos :)**

 **17**

 **Joker**

"I can feeeelll yoouu…" I mutter under my breath when I follow Frost through the circular sewer exit above us and into the crisp morning air. _He_ 's here; I can feel _him_ in my bones; the excitement of my certainty zings pleasure through my limbs (homoerotic much?). Ignoring the overwhelming electricity of my exhilaration and the dizzying rush from the utter madness around me, I climb up the steps of the podium and use my machine gun like a club aimed at the Mayor's head. There is a loud thud and a splash of blood (ouch) before the mayor goes toppling off the edge of the podium, landing head first on the paved floor (double ouch).

Commissioner Gordon charges but stumbles forward onto the planks when Frost shoots at him. I meander past Frost who then takes up guard of the podium and kick a moaning Gordon in the noggin (heads up!), his head bounces off the wooden boards and he remains motionless.

Standing in front of the lectern, I clear my throat and speak into the microphone "Hello Gotham, where are you all going?" I readjust my hold on the machine gun and fire randomly into the crowd "Don't you wanna watch? Ha! It's feeeeedddiinnnggg time."

I continue firing wildly into the hysterical masses when a dark form appears in my periphery and glides down towards me; I know its Batsy (ooooh goodie goodie!) without even having to look. He lands just a few feet away; his black mask (more than a little ridiculous FYI but who am I to judge?), his cold eyes, his square jaw and his obstinate lips give him a foreboding look.

"Batsy, Batsy, Batsy… What a pleasant surprise." I smile even as he throws a punch at my face; I weave out of his way but he manages to knock the machine gun out of my hand.

"Oooh… I take it the feeling's not mutual?" The stern line of his lips turns down into a frown, he looks ready to do murder (promises promises).

A groan comes from behind me and the Bat's gaze follows the sound to the writhing commissioner; when tries to make his way towards him I slip my switchblade out of my pocket and slash upward in an impressively fluid (if I do say so myself) arc.

He staggers back as a deep red mark blossoms on his cheek "Ah Ah, you know how jealous I get when I have to share your attention."

"Are you sure you want my attention? It usually hurts." The glee bubbles up inside me; ain't he just awesome (sigh)? Wanting to keep him away from Gordon, I attack him again bringing my switchblade in a jerking motion towards his abdomen.

He dodges and gets ahold of my wrist then punches me repeatedly in the face until the tangy taste of blood fills my mouth (he's sooo fun); I burst into laughter. All my jollies aside though I can't keep this up forever (unfortunate, yes); I've gotten what I came here for (mayhem check, senseless death check check, pissed off bat check check check) and now comes the disappearing act. I step forward and place my foot behind his then, when he cocks his hand, I lunge forward with a head-butt to the nose; he staggers back and trips over my foot.

I take the opportunity to rush towards the awakening Gordon still wriggling around on the floor. I grab him by the scruff of his neck and use him as a shield; sniggering at Batsy, I bring my blade up to Gordon's neck.

"I'd stop that right now, Bats!" I snap at him when he takes a menacing step towards me (I'm just quaking in my Gucci shoes… HA!).

He eyes my blade wearily "What is the point of this, Joker?"

"This" I gesture at the carnage of the zoo "is the point of this." I point at his partly covered but obviously enraged expression "That is the point of this." He moves closer to me as I continue to move away "I also have a surprise for y-"

As I take my first step down the stairs the commissioner uses the uneven ground to his advantage; he twists his body and hip checks me so I fall, rather spectacularly, down the stairs (that's gonna smart in the morning). The commissioner pulls out his weapon and points it at me.

"Heh, now there's a man who will follow through with his promises." I laugh at the telltale tick in Batsy's jaw (one knock out punch coming up).

I put my hands up "Wait! Wait! Wait!" I manage between breaths "You're gonna miss the best part!"

"The best part?" He's looking grimmer by the second "What have you done Clown?"

I shrug from where I lie on the floor "Mmm, me? Nothing… But I hear Killer Croc may be feeding his cousins some kinder size morsels some time around ooh" I look at my watch "now."

It takes a moment for them to process the words and I see the exact moment when Bats understands my meaning. I push myself to a sitting position and lean back onto my hands "Mmm, Tick-tock Batsy, you're going to miss Croc. You don't throw a child in a bask of crocodiles and stand around to count the pieces, you know… well, unless of course he wants to. In which case" I shrug "all the power to him."

"I've got this. Go!" Gordon tells him stepping closer to the sewer likely trying to cut off any potential escape (pff). Pointing one of his fancy-shmancy devices (aka batquipments) at a building he hauls himself in the direction of the crocodile enclosure.

The Batman's gone. Now, where in the fuck is Frost?

* * *

 **Harley**

Luckily for me there is not a single car on the roads and when I hit the highway I'm able to put the pedal to the metal; I manage the drive in 10 minutes. My palms are sweaty by the time I bring my car to a screeching halt in the zoo parking lot. There is a mass exodus of people, all of them tightly packed and struggling against each other. I grip my steering wheel and look along the zoo's fencing; I need to get in and if I attempt to push past the throng I'll likely get trampled.

 _Nothin's getting between me and my puddin'._

I put my car into gear, rev the engine and ignore all the people who dive out of the way as I speed towards the fence. I crash through, swerving to avoid the masses and running over the animals that pursue them when I can. Fueled by the adrenaline, the intoxicating feeling of danger and the need to get to Mr. J, I push down harder on the gas pedal.

The podium comes into view but, when I don't see anyone standing on it, my stomach sinks; I swerve the car a few feet away and slam on the breaks. Grabbing the bat from the passenger seat I get out, hop on the hood and run along windshield to the roof and onto the podium.

There he is, laying on his back, hands behind his head and laughing at the commissioner who is pointing a gun at him. Without even a second's hesitation or an ounce of reservation I grip my bat in two hands, charge forward and swing it at his head. The impact vibrates through the bat into my hands and up my arms; the commissioner goes down and Mr. J's eyes widened to almost comical proportions.

As the commissioner falls motionless to the ground, I'm overcome by a sense similar to the dissociation I felt when I stood in the restaurant with Mr. J's glock in my hand; this time though I don't really feel apart from myself, instead I feel like some other me is in control.

"Ground ball!" I laugh at Mr. J's baseball commentator impersonation.

I throw my arms around his him and bury my face in his neck "Oh my god I was so worried about you."

He lets me cling to him for a little then mutters "Mmm… ya alrightalrightalright." as he dislodges himself.

I grab his hand "Come on… let's get out of here."

He pulls his hand away and walks over to Gordon, stands over him and slaps him repeatedly on the face. "Wakey wakey." The commissioner groans and shifts around aimlessly on the floor, Mr. J bends over to help him to his feet. I take Mr. J's lead and help the moaning commissioner to his feet "I'm gonna go out on a limb here and say he's coming with us?"

Mr. J grins at me "Kidnapping… heh…it's not just for kids."

The grounds are quickly emptying out of people and the animals are settling down; I know it's only a matter of time before we get swarmed by police officers, paramedics and maybe batman. I don't argue with Mr. J; we get Gordon into the back of my car and I run around into the driver's seat.

I put the car into gear when the back door is pulled open violently, I jerk in surprise and Mr. J points a gun at the figure that heaves himself into the car.

"JonnieJonnie, so glad you could join us." Mr. J's voice is dripping with sarcasm. I crane my neck over to get a better look at him. He looks terrible, his jacket is shredded, his pants stained, he's covered in blood and there is some discoloration on his face.

"Lookin' good." I tease from the front seat, Mr. J's chuckle causes a pleasant blush of warmth to spread through me. I smile, putting the car into gear and shoving my foot down on the gas; the tires spin and the smell of burning rubber wafts in through the open windows before the boys thump backwards into their seats from the sudden forward momentum.

"Um… you guys wanna tell me where I'm going?" my voice is trembling from excitement, just when I look over at Mr. J a blur dart forward from the backseat and wraps it's arms around his neck. I shriek and temporarily loose control of the car, it swerves from side to side and I struggle helplessly to get it under control while Mr. J is being strangled.

Frost lunges forward to help Mr. J and a struggle ensues between the three men in the car; when I take my foot off the accelerator to help Frost yells "No, just drive!"

I do what I'm told even though I still have no idea where we are going; eventually the commissioner's hold is loosened and Mr. J starts, in between wild laughter and chocking sounds, barking directions at me.

By the time we pull to a stop the commissioner has been knocked unconscious again and we are on the outskirts of town in the parking lot of what looks like an old rundown amusement park.

Frost the wrestles the lifeless commissioner Gordon out of the car and onto his shoulder then we follow Mr. J to a rusted metal door. He runs his hand along the wall and pulls open a hidden compartment then places his hand against a high tech scanner that pops out from the wall; it only takes a second before the rusted metal doors slide sideways into the walls to reveal a newer heavier looking slab, that too slides away into the walls.

Frost, still hauling the commissioner around over his shoulder, wanders off further into the building. I look around, despite the rundown and abandoned looking exterior, the inside of the building is high-tech and obviously inhabited.

Mr. J heads to the full bar at the corner of the room to pour a drink, I sit on the stool in front of him; when he turns to pack the bottle away I drink the shot. When he turns around and reaches for the now empty glass he pauses then glares at me; I grin back at him. He makes a noise in his throat, it sounds a bit like a growl and it's sound that has become very familiar to me; it makes my heart flutter.

I place my hands on the bar and lean onto them, straining forward I place an opened mouth kiss on his lips then sit back down on the stool. Puddin' rolls his eyes at me and reaches for the bottle again; this time he pulls a second glass out, fills them both up and places the bottle beside us.

We drink the shots on the table then pushing the empty glasses, and the not so empty bottle, onto the floor I climb over the bar. I wrap my arms around his shoulders, my legs around his hips and put my mouth on his again. He kisses me and I moan against him as he pushes me up on the bar; I can feel him hardening against me.

His hands run up my hips to my ribs and they cup my breasts through my shirt then drifting down over my back he grips my ass in his fingers. He grinds his thickening erection between my thighs and groans against me.

"Puddin'-"

"Stop calling me that!" he grumbles while dragging his mouth from my lips to my jaw then to my neck. His hands come back out to the front of my shirt and starts working on the buttons.

"Mr. J." I place my hands against his heaving chest, push him farther away then drag them up to his emerald hair. He looks impatient; he's definitely not somebody who likes being teased. I smile at him "I love you, puddin'."

His hands stop moving and he pulls his face even farther away from me.

"What?"


	19. Her Affliction

**The next chapter. There is more Joker than Harley in this chapter... Don't know how that happened but I guess it's ok**

 **Enjoy & excuse the typos :)**

sunflowerseeds51 sry forgot to answer your question in my last chapter. Yes, nutmeg is a hallucinogenic and a really nasty one too from what I've read. If you are thinking about trying it out save yourself the trauma and don't lol.

 **18**

 **Frost**

A few years ago, I read an article in some newspaper about a woman who got attacked by a deer; it was a pretty extensive article and I had never laughed so much about news in my life. A lady had apparently been attacked on her driveway by a doe and had practically been stripped naked by the animal's snapping teeth and beating hooves. I was convinced it was fake news; it was too ridiculous to be anything other than that.

I had an experience at the zoo with a cracked out Zebra; what a fucking eye opener. I had been too busy worrying about the predators and the larger animals that the idea of a pissed off, glorified donkey in attack mode had never even crossed my mind. I was completely blindsided; it had bulldozed me into the floor then attempted to trample and bite my clothes to shreds. If I hadn't been able to reach my gun, which had gone skittering a few feet away, I have no doubt I would have died a very humiliating death. Luckily I survived, only to be teased about it by that bitch and her 'Lookin' good' comment.

When I start going down the narrow stairs at the end of the hall I readjust the commissioner who is dangling uncomfortably over my shoulder like a sac of potatoes. My ribs are aching, they are probably bruised and I know that I shouldn't have pulled Gordon out of the car; none of the boys were around though and after the reactions of Mr. J and his bitch I really didn't want to draw any more of attention by showing weakness.

Once I reach the basement room Mr. J reserves for his 'special guests' I flop the old man down and secure his arms and legs to the steel chair. I do the man a favor and keep the lights off when I leave; he really doesn't need to see the instruments of pain Mr. J keeps in there.

I make my way back towards the main room to let Mr. J know that his guest is ready for him but slow my pace considerably just a few feet away from the entrance. The door is only partially closed and I can hear the voices emanating from within, Dr. Quinzel is obviously upset and there is a frigid edge to Mr. J's voice. Careful not to make any noise and making sure to stay hidden behind the door, I creep closer until the muffled voices become clearer.

"…-ween us and I won't let you do it!" Her last few words are strained. There is some more garbled back and forth that I don't quite hear so I creep even closer. Unable to stop myself I take a peek through the crack between the door and it's frame; I've seen this before. Mr. J has taken ahold of her neck and he looks to be squeezing, Harley's face is flushed. Thankfully they are both so absorbed in each other that neither notices the large eye spying on them.

Licking my lips, I step away as silently as I can and only turn my back to the door when I'm at a safe distance. The doctor is finally going to bite the bullet, thank God. It's not anything personal but Mr. J is unpredictable enough as it is and they are obviously a bad influence on each other. The world, and more importantly I, will probably be safer without her around. I make my way out the side of the building to the boys in the back; I will also definitely not be interrupting them. I'll get Frankie to do it; he's been after my job for a while.

* * *

 **Joker**

She feels amazing. Her breasts are heavy in my palms and when I drag my hands from them to her ass the parts of her skin that are exposed are like cashmere underneath my fingers. I can feel the heat radiating from her pussy through my jeans; I can't control the moan as I grip her ass and grind my growing erection against her warmth. Her blue eyes are glazed over with desires and she's so deliciously responsive; perfect, she's per-

"Puddin'-"

-fect (until she speaks!) "Stop calling me that!" I snap against her skin as I drag my lips from hers to press kisses along her jaw and neck. I'm so hard; I get visions of her beautifully soft skin chained up and those lovely lips wrapped my dick (bet she won't be yabbering then). My hands come back to her shirt and I start unbuttoning it (fuck this) I fist the sides of her shirt in preparation to rip them apart.

"Mr. J." (Oh shut up!) She pushes against my chest; I know she can feel my heart (yes, I have one) hammering because I feel like it might explode out of my rib cage (seen Aliens anyone?). If she opens her mouth to do anything other than give me head I'm going t-

"I love you, puddin'."

I blink at her (….). "What?"

She grips my shirt and presses her fists into my chest "I love you."

Love is for the blind "Heh…" love is for disillusioned "Haha…" love is for the insane "AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA." Tears of mirth start streaming down my cheeks and I push her as I stumble away and collapse into the nearest chair.

She follows me to the chair "Stop!"

Love? Ladies and gentlemen love is a gun I haven't had aimed at me in a long, long time (thank god!) and for a very good reason too. For one, who could love me? I'm pretty unlovable (ain't that the truth?) and for two no one's lived long enough (bang bang). Not since before my rebirth. Not since –

"Stop it!"

My laughter hasn't died down despite the tendrils of memories (those treacherous things) that I sense start to curl around my skull. The laughter stops abruptly though when the heat from her lips seeps into mine; she's warm, so deliciously warm. I groan into her and lean forward; her hands move up my chest and tangle in my hair.

A heat burns upward from my belly into my chest (what is that? Heartburn?) and my heart (aka frostbitten pea) does a very strange jerky… twitchy ….thing. She pulls back and runs her very gentle fingers across my lips.

"You told me I wouldn't have to lie to you. That I need to lie to everybody else but not you." She leans forward and presses her lips against me "That goes both ways. You can lie to everybody else about what you can and cannot feel, but you don't have to lie to me." She presses her lips on my neck and my heart does another weird jerky squirmy thing (is there a worm squiggling around in my chest?!).

She puts her hand on my chest, right above my (ice chip)-I mean heart "Don't tell me you don't feel this!"

That _thing_ in my chest does it's squirmy wriggling again when I look into her eyes (that's enough of that shit); I squish it down. Her glowing eyes (breathtaking) haven't left mine and she leans forward to try to kiss me again but I grab her by the shoulders and keep her at arms length. This is going to stop now; she's getting clingy and there is nothing less attractive than a needy woman.

My hands clench on her shoulders with bruising force; she winces but she tries to push forward, she wants to kiss me. My hands give way for her (what the fuck?) and I let her, it makes me feel _something_ (gooey?). What is this? What the fuck is this! Why am I feeling this now? The rage flares in my stomach and I push her harshly backward onto the floor.

"Love, _Doctor_ " I spit as I stand over her "Love... love _!"_ I burst into strained laughter "If I didn't know better I'd ask you if you were crazy."

She gets to her knees in front of me and places her hands on my thighs and I see flashes of our first night together. She looks beautiful, like she belongs there gazing up at me with those adoring (yes, it is adoration!) eyes.

"I am crazy... for you! And you feel something for me too!"

She's beautiful (yes I've already admitted that), I'll even venture as far as to say I like her (insert noise of exasperation) but love? Love is meaningless, common, boring, one-dimensional and completely beneath me (right?).

"Have you forgotten who I am _Doctor_? Love is for the foolish masses and I am not one of them! _"_

She slaps her hands on my thighs "Stop calling me that!" she slaps her hands on my thighs again "Stop calling me _doctor_! I know what you are doing! You're trying to create distance between us and I won't let you do it!"

I roll my eyes (fucking psychiatrists), if they are not trying to make sense of me (fucking pointless) they are trying to fix me (I like being broken).

"I'm your pumpkin and you are my puddin'! I love you and you feel it too and you can't change that!"

"The hell you say?"

I grab a hold of her neck with bruising force and push her all the way down to the floor, I straddle her chest then use my free hand to pull out my gun and point it at her head. This is it ladies and gentlemen; tonight is the night she dies.

She's scared this time (delicious); I can see it quite clearly when her wide, teary eyes linger on the glock pointed at her forehead. her throat convulses under my palm (decadent) as she swallows nervously; her eyes narrow when they move from the glock to me. Yes, the fear is still there but in the stiffness of her jaw and her unwavering gaze there is also determination and excitement.

This is clearly the look of a lovesick crazy woman (uh oh). "Heheh…"

Best put this bitch out of my misery, I squeeze the trigger.

The gun doesn't react (What the fuck?). I pull it away from her head so I can look down the barrel and examine the trigger (looks fine). I put it back against her head and I squeeze the trigger. Nothing happens (What the fuck!).

The door bangs open and Frankie enters the room "Mr. J the commissioner is downstairs waiting for y-"

He stops speaking when he processes Harley's partially unbuttoned shirt and my straddling her with a gun to her head. I don't give him time to react; I point the gun at him and squeeze the trigger. A satisfying bang resounds through the room as blood splashes on the beige door and wall behind him.

Well, it's not the gun that's on the fritz; I glare at my trigger finger (et tu, Brute?); I can't pull the trigger. I can't fucking kill her (Huston we have a problem)! I growl in frustration as I throw the gun across the room and slap my hands down on either side of Harley's head.

Harley is staring at the blood stained walls, her breath coming out in quick bursts. I can't shoot her! I've never felt so impotent in my entire life! Fine then, ladies and gentlemen I'm nothing if not crafty; if I can't make her disappear then I'm going to make her affliction (aka madness) work for me.

* * *

 **Harley**

I know I've won the battle when he throws his gun across the room in exasperation; I also know as I see his calculating blue eyes size me up that I'm not even close to winning the war. His already cool blue eyes have turned chilly and his expression is breathtakingly devious. His head twitches up and to the side even as he pulls his opposite shoulder down and makes that odd rumbling noise at the back of his throat.

I smile at his mannerisms; the head twitch is something he does when he's frustrated. My familiarity with him and my growing ability to read his behavior is leaving me feeling stupidly giddy. I run my hands up his thighs, back down then up again in a comforting motion. How many women have been this close to him before? How many have survived him this long? None. That's how many, not a one. This man is extremely dangerous, complex, cunning, and incredibly volatile; by his own admission there has been no other woman. Yet here I am reading his behaviors. He can do and say what he likes but he will let me in because I know, _I know_ , he can feel this too.

Taking a deep breath I place my hands on his chest again to feel his heart still in his chest, I knowI should be horrified by the dead body that fell to the floor a few feet away. I'm not. The other part of me that so wants to be with Mr. J, the other part of me that provided the will to shoot batman and clobber the commissioner over the head won't let me care.

"You love me?" his voice is mocking but I don't take the bait instead I wrap my arms around his neck and stretch upward to him. I worry he won't let me follow through, but when our lips meet he kisses me back aggressively. His hands pass over my shoulders and slip into my bra to cup my breasts.

I clench my arms around his shoulders and moan as I feel his growing erection press between us. "Yes, I love you." I whisper against his lips "Why are you pushing me aw-"

He pushes face away and my head bounces painfully on the floor, he gives me a second to get my bearings. "How much do you love me?"

I should be appalled at his behavior but I'm not, it makes my heart race. His eyes are glowing at me and I whisper "I told you I'm crazy for you."

"Hehe… well isn't _that_ ironic." We smile at each other "Ok, Doctor." my smile drops, I'm not his doctor! I'm his pumpkin' and no matter how much he tries to push me away that won't ever change.

"Prove it."


	20. Sing For Me

**Here is the next chapter. Sorry for the delay. It's close Christmas, I'm sick and I've had a whole lot going on in my life recently. Posts might be a bit slower but they will continue. Hope you enjoy & sorry for the typos I will likely proof again in the next few days. **

**19**

 **Harley**

I drum my fingers on the steering wheel and survey the entrance to the Asylum parking lot. I've parked the rented car in a dark corner across the street where I can watch the building out of view of the security cameras. I don't want to do this; I want to put the car in drive and speed all the way back to Mr. J's hideout. I want to wrap my arms around him and smother with him in as much affection as he'll tolerate from me. The problem with that plan is he won't tolerate any affection at this point, he's made that pretty clear; he won't have me back until I do this.

Gathering my hair off my shoulders, I tie it in a tight bun at the back of my head; I am going to do this. I know there is something inherently wrong about asking a partner, which in the very least is what I am to him, to prove their love or devotion. If your loved one doesn't know how you feel about them then there must be something fundamentally wrong with your relationship… This is true for average people who are capable of making and sustaining relationships; Mr. J is not an average anything and relationships are not his forte. If I have to force myself out of my comfort zone, which is clearly what he wants from me, to prove to him that I love him so be it.

I zip up my black sweatshirt, pull the hoodie up to cover my head and slip my arms through the shoulder straps of my grey bag before starting my easy jog towards the Asylum. I can feel the chill of early winter in the air and my breath is coming out in little bursts of mist in front of my face. My heart is beating like the hooves of a racehorse and the rush of fear and excitement push my feet into gear. I stick to the shadows as I jog into the parking lot; I won't make the same mistake I did when I barged in to visit Mr. J. The cameras are up and running again but if I'm smart I should be able to avoid the bulk of them and stay undetected long enough to do what I need to do.

I jog through the parking, past the path towards the main entrance and around the building to the back entrance; when reach there I pause. I rub my glove-covered hands together and look up at the new surveillance cameras that have recently been installed on the walls by the door; the back is not an option either. I turn away and head back in the direction I came from; there is another way in. I spot the window when I've reached about halfway along the side of the building; it's a little high up and I won't be able to reach it unless I can propel myself up.

What was a fence a few yards down is now a wall running along the side and back ends of the building; slipping my thin leather gloves onto my hands, I take a few seconds to judge the distance from the ground to the window and from the outside wall to the building wall. I won't get much of a running start but if I time my push offs right I should be able to make the window in three jumps. I run the short distance and make the first push of but my foot slips on the second and my face bounces of the building wall before landing hard on the ground.

I gather myself off the floor, face stinging and dust my pants off; I try again and this time I can almost feel the windowsill just brush past my fingertips.

"Urrrggghhh!" I growl in frustration.

I reach the sill on my third try though; I pull myself up through the window and slip stealthily to my feet. I make an exasperated noise when I realize that I'm standing in Dr. Schumer's office; rolling my eyes I pull my hood back up over my head. As I walk through the dark room I use some hair clips I'd placed in my back pocket to clip my hood onto my hair then, when I'm ready to leave, I pause with my hand on the door handle.

I need to get into the Drug Storage Room and to do that I need a card key; I have my own and my plan was to use it if I couldn't filch a set from the guards but I turn around and eye Schumer's desk. A giddy and mildly devious feeling comes over me and I do a cartwheel towards Dr. Schumer's desk before ransacking it in search for his card key.

* * *

 **Batman**

I spot Bullock standing on the sidewalk beside the precinct; using his worn brown fedora to block out the chill wind that unsteadied the flame, he brings the lighter closer to the cigarette at his lips. He has been put in charge of finding the whereabouts of Gordon and so far all he has managed to do is litter the pavement with cigarette buds. Incompetence is an inescapable fact of human nature and it's frequency is mind numbing.

Jim is one of the few people that both Bruce and I can agree on; he is a strong, decent man with a resolve as steely as ours. Jim is capable and smart but I knew, even as I rushed over to save the little girl, that he was going to lose Joker. I wouldn't have held it against him, that monster is easy to lose; I hadn't counted however on Joker taking Jim with him.

My gloved hands tense as I watch Bullock flick his cigarette roach on the pavement then lift his hat to block the wind and light up again. Bruce had spent the previous night trying desperately to sleep but managed only to toss and turn until he gave in to his thoughts: _he_ 's got Jim Gordon and no one other than Batman will be able to get him back. We'd gone downstairs into the Batcave and I went to work trying to find Gordon.

The guilt on it's own for leaving him alone with Joker was damn near unbearable, but I know if I don't get him back it's only going to get worse. Jim has information, not only vital knowledge pertinent to the police department but also to me; he knows where Robin is and if I don't get him back soon so will Joker.

Lunging off the roof of the building on the opposite side of the street I use my cape to glide down and land silently beside Bullock. The cigarette smoke wafts up around his head and leaves the suffocating stench of it in the brisk air.

"Any progress ?" I don't know why I bother asking, I already know the answer but I do take a mildly twisted pleasure in Bullock's initial reflexive fear at my presence.

He gets himself under control "No, nothing that I can share with _you_."

My hands clench again; the police department has taken possession of all footage pertaining to the events at the zoo and I have been unable to get my hands on any of it. If I want to get Jim out alive I need to do it soon; I need a starting point. I need that footage.

"Let me see the footage. I can hel-"

"No. I have been put in charge of this investigation and I will not share information with a two-bit caped vigilante."

My hands clench again in frustration, unfortunately as I was saying earlier stupidity is a fact of human nature and it's frequency is rather unbearable.

* * *

 **Joker**

I sink further down into my seat, one arm defensively over my abs the other swirling the amber liquid around in the snifter. The TV is on and I stare uninterested at the screen; instead my mind is occupied with ('drowning in' is a more accurate description) the fact that I couldn't kill her… Do you people understand? _I_ _ **couldn't**_ kill her. Me, Joker, couldn't kill; I throw the liquid down my throat and slam the glass on the counter beside me.

 _I love you… I told you I'm crazy for you…_ just the words set my hair on end (not in a bad way either). I stretch my neck out and lick my lips "I should have killed you when I had my balls…" I grumble to myself while crossing my legs at the ankle. She is a great lay (really great) and she is more than a little entertaining but love? I move around uncomfortably in my seat; people don't love me (for obvious reasons) and I definitely don't-

The door bangs behind me and I raise my head "That crazy shrink back yet?"

"Nah." I eye Frost as he walks over to the fridge behind the bar and pulls out a corona. My mind wanders back to Harley underneath me with her bust pushing out of her half-open shirt (mmm) and that twit walking in on us; I grin.

"What was that idiot's name again?" He pauses with the bottle to his lips and looks at me "Wh-" he stops his question when he sees the look I'm giving him.

"That was Frankie, boss."

I'm not usually very good with names (especially those of insignificant buffoons) but that one rings a bell. I distinctly remember some ridiculous spat between JonnieJonnie and the dearly departed Frankie. It appears, friends, that good ol' Jonnieboy's up to his old tricks again (gotta luv'him).

"You didn't like Frankie, very much did you?" I watch as his controlled expression wavers then sets in self-assuredness.

"No, I didn't." My lips pull up in a smile at him then I turn back towards the television "Hah…" I pour myself another drink "Good on you for taking his life in your hands Jonnieboy."

"Thanks boss." He takes a swig of his drink; the front door bangs open again and we both turn to face it.

The beautiful (bane) of my life is standing at the door; hair high up on her head, cheeks and nose rosy and her eyes lit up with adoration (bad bad news). She walks over to me and drops her grey bag on the floor in triumph, so sure that she's won (so naïve); she doesn't realize that the fun's just begun.

She crawls onto my lap, places a quick kiss on my lips and her arms around my shoulders "Done." She smiles and kisses me deeply again my hands drift up her waist to her ribs and I push her off me.

"No, Doctor… Not done." Her face falls (much better) and I smile.

* * *

 **Harley**

I roll my eyes at him when he calls me 'Doctor' but I don't bother to argue, "Not done." I echo back at him "I did what you asked! How can I not be done?"

Mr. J laughs and gestures at me to bring my bag as he makes his way out the door, I glance over at Frost who stands behind the bar chugging his beer; as usual his face gives nothing away. I grab my backpack and hurry after Mr. J.

"I did what you asked! You asked me to prove it and I did." I shake the backpack at him as we walk down a darkened stairwell.

Even as I say it, I am aware that his sending me on an errand was more than just a need for 'proof' of my affection. It was a test, like the first time he sent me to The Circus with his jester card-key. Let's face it, he is Joker; he is a high-functioning, well-connected criminal who most definitely doesn't need me to get him the drugs he asked me for. He probably has a stash of them in his basement; he's probably taking me to it right now so he can mock me for being such an idiot.

Despite my thoughts I continue to follow him down the dark stairwell, when we finally reach the basement we move deeper into the darkness until he pushes open a door at the end of the hall. I step into the dank room and squint when he flips on the overly bright lights, it takes me a second before I'm able to actually see the what we've stepped into.

"Oh, my God…" I whisper as I take in the room; this is no drug storage room.

The room has no windows despite it's size and the walls are tiled with a sickly green stone. The floor raises the farther back in the room you go and on the hind wall is a long hose and showerhead. Beneath my feet is a drain and hanging on either wall to my sides are instruments of pain, some on the racks hanging off the walls and others on tables right beneath the racks. This is a torture chamber. I glance at Mr. J and his eyes are empty, his smile devious "You love me don't you?" his voice is mocking.

I swallow thickly and I bring one of my hands up to my neck unconsciously "You are manipulating me." I whisper and he giggles in response, he doesn't even attempt to deny it.

My mind wanders to his twisted sense of humor, his genius and his danger. It's who he is; it's what he does and if I want to have him I will need to accept all of him. "Yes! I already told you yes."

His smile drops, the evil glimmer fades out of his eyes and all of a sudden he doesn't look so amused anymore. If anything he looks worried. Very worried and frustrated when he does his tell head and shoulder stretch. My declaration of love really has thrown him way out of his comfort zone and my poor puddin' isn't dealing with it very well. I move towards him to give him a comforting kiss but he waves me away.

"Good, close the door." He sounds agitated so to keep the peace I do what I'm told and when I turn around he is straddling the commissioner.

"Wakey Wakey." He slaps the commissioner across the face a few times and the man groans.

I walk behind Mr. J and brush my hands across his shoulders as I move to stand out of the commissioner's view. My palms start sweating when Mr. J pulls a switchblade out of his jacket and I shove my hands into my pants pocket to hide their trembling.

I know that I'm about to witness something that I will never forget and I don't mean that in a nice wholesome 'my boyfriend is kinky in bed' way. I take a few calming breaths to ease the racing of my heart and as much as I want to I don't look away from the scene in front of me.

This is part of the test, he's doing this to prove a point and if I look away, if I show fear or discomfort or any sign of weakness it means he's won. I'm not looking away. I won't ever look away.

Jutting his knife into the commissioners shoulder Mr. J grins at him "Are you ready to sing for me pretty bird?"


	21. Wallflowers

**20**

 **I'm back... phew! Sorry for the reeeaaallly long delay! Also Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to everyone who celebrates & Best Wishes to everybody else! I will warn that I haven't yet proofread so apologies in advance. I will proofread in soon. Enjoy!**

 **Harley**

I could feel the sweat tickling down the back of my neck and I reach up to wipe it away, the motion captures Joker's attention briefly. His glazed eyes came quickly over to me flickering with mockery, daring me to leave. I bring my hand back down, ball them both into fists and meet his gaze unwavering.

 _I'm not looking away_ _and I'm not leaving._

I will the thought into my glare; I know, when he stretches his neck out and forcibly twists the knife sticking out of Gordon's shoulder, that my message came across clearly. The commissioner's scream echoes, which thoroughly amuses puddin' and leaves my hands trembling.

"Hand me that bag'o'fun will you darlin'?" He purrs to me from over the commissioner's shoulder. Silently I hand over my backpack; I watch him rummage through it then carelessly throw vials and bottles of drugs on the ground.

"No…" crash, "No…" crash, "Nope…" crash, "Ohhh fun" he pulls out a bottle of Paxil pills, an antidepressant with the leading side effect of causing suicide attempts in youth, and shows it to the commissioner then shrugs "but no." It crashes on the floor with the others.

He digs through the bag a bit more and pulls a vial out "AHA!"

He'd given me an extremely precise list when he told me what he wanted of me; it included drug names, the number of bottles required, the number of pills per bottle and a list of injectable drugs. I was baffled when he wrote the list out right in front of me; despite how precise he was the variety of drugs was large enough that it seemed somewhat arbitrary. Whether or not that was the case didn't matter. He asked me to prove my devotion to him and I would.

Whatdid matter, what did stick out was that he was able to list over 30 drugs, off the top of his head, using their generic names and not their brand names. I couldn't list 30 generic drug names off the top of my head and I prescribe the damn things. It got my mind working about who he had been before he became Joker. When he'd told me about his past in Arkham, he'd just given me broad strokes and when he did share details they were always of unnamed parents, unspecified places or vague memories of faceless people.

I never got his birth name, his age or any confirmation of where he was born and raised. He confirmed what I had already suspected, that he'd received a higher education, but he never told me his field of study. The ease with which he'd pulled that list from thin air told me, it had to be the sciences. Maybe Chemistry. Maybe biology. Although, in reality, this was not the greatest of revelations, because his past is still such a mystery to me, it felt like a 'EUREKA' moment.

I watch him now as he walks over to the side of the room and picks a syringe up from one of the steel tables. He tilts the vial upside down, injects the needle through the seal and aspirates the drug. The process is completed with such practiced ease and such a clinical way that I can practically see him in scrubs right before my eyes. He carefully places the empty vial on the table and, when his malicious blue eyes meet mine, the image of the stranger in scrubs, the man that may have been, shatters and is replaced with Joker. My puddin'.

Inching closer to the table I peek at the drug he'd used, 'sodium thiopental' better known as Pentothal; a drug that has been used by some organizations as a truth serum.

Up until now the commissioner has been managing his pain and Mr. J's presence in stony silence, but as puddin' gets closer I can see his mask waver.

"What is that?" Gordon's voice falters as puddin' stands directly in his field of vision and expertly pushes the plunger to get any air out of the syringe.

Gordon struggle helplessly in his seat as Mr. J makes a show of jabbing the needle into his neck and pushing the liquid out." Just something to help you with the lead tongue."

Gordon's whole body jolts causing a healthy chuckle from Mr. J "Oh, I'm sorry Gordy, did that hurt?" he places his hand over the area that he'd just plunged the needle into, "Here, let me help with that." He uses that same hand to deliver a resounding backhand.

He moves away from Gordon and begins to make his way towards me "Let's just give that a few seconds sink in hmm, Gordy?"

"I'm going to need something else from you, _Doctor…"_ I watch as he walks away from the commissioner and stalks over to me. My heart skips a beat as I take in the sway in his movements and the devious glint in his eyes.

"Aah my little wallflower", he mumbles as he passes his hand over my shoulder, down my arm and when his hand reaches mine I intertwine our fingers together. His fingers flex convulsively around mine then he grips my hand and guides it to the wall behind me.

He moves up against me until my bust presses against his hard chest and I have to crane my neck to look up into his eyes. Strands of his emerald hair have fallen down to the sides of his face and I reach up to push his them in place when he starts walking me back into the wall. There is a warm burst of butterflies in my belly and I can't take my eyes off him while he presses my back and hand against the cool tiles behind me. My hand is dragged down until it connects with something cylindrical and he closes my fingers around it.

My chest is heaving against his and I can feel the length of him growing against my hip, "I have no need for wallflowers." He kisses me and when my free hand moves up the side of his chest to pull him closer he groans into the kiss and turns away.

I look down to my hand and my stomach sinks because my fingers are curled around the grip of my bat and I know _exactly_ what he wants me to do with it.

"No, I can't." I blurt the words out before I can control it.

"No?" Mr. J's eyes widen and his voice drops comically even as a grin breaks across his face.

I lick my lips and look down at the bat and over to the commissioner; why didn't I think this would happen? How could I not see it coming when I walked into this room and saw the commissioner tied to a chair? How didn't I think he'd make this as difficult as possible for me?

"I can't – I've never- and I don't even know why." I shake my head in denial; sure I've fought people off and I'll do whatever it takes to keep my puddin' safe but Gordon's helpless. I focus on Gordon; his head has flopped down and to the side, his previously tense limbs have turned limp and the little movement he can make is clumsy. The drug is kicking in.

Mr. J rolls his eyes "Oh please, don't play coy with me now." his gaze moves lasciviously up my body "Why doesn't matter I've witnessed your brand of crazy. I'm simply requesting for an encore."

My heart flutters at the look of lust on his face and a cold hand crawls up my belly towards my chest.

Mr J. stares me in the eyes; he doesn't need to ask me the question it's hanging between us in the air like an invisible curtain.

 _Don't you love him Harl?_ I start at the question and whirl around to look over my shoulder thinking maybe it came from behind me… there is no one there. _Do it! Do it!_ The cold hand fists around my heart and all the reservations I have crumble away.

I can feel Mr. J's eyes on me as I take a few steadying breaths then standing to the side of Gordon I bring the bat down on his arm.

Gordon groans and mumbles something but Mr. J's giggling drowns his voice out. "Come on Harley…put some effort into it!"

Taking another deep breath I do what I'm told and this time when I bring the bat down the jarring impact vibrates through my hands.

The commissioner screams in pain; when my hands start to shake I look over at Mr. J for reassurance and his smile is enough to give me the warm fuzzies.

"Where is he?" Mr. J questions the commissioner; I swing the bat again this time connecting with the commissioner's chest and the sweat, previously just on the back of my neck, beads on my face and body. There is some wheezing but Gordon shakes his head, "I d-don't care what you do! I'll never tell you where he is!"

Obviously the drugs haven't taken full affect yet, stealing myself for another swing I bring the bat down on a knee and the cracking sound makes me dry heave.

"Mr. J-"

"Not Now!" he barks at me but moves closer and puts an encouraging hand on the small of my back "Where is he?" I bring the bat down again while I struggle to keep my gagging at bay and the tears start spilling down my cheeks.

 _He's not forcing you, what you whining about? Pussy!_ I jerk away and look behind me again thinking the question came from there.

"I won't tell you where Robin is!" The commissioner screams. I glance over at Mr. J, his cold eyes round from disbelief and his smile growing ever more ruthless.

"I'm sorry commissioner I may be going deaf in my advancing age, did you just say Robin? … You won't tell me where _Robin_ is?"

A look of despair comes over the commissioner's face and puddin' falls into a fit of jubilant laughter.

 **Joker**

Believe it or not ladies and gentlemen kidnapping commissioner Gordon was not originally part of my plan but, when I saw him lying there like a roofied college student, I couldn't help getting my rocks off (I'm just opportunistic that way).

I giggle excitedly and glance at Harley sitting quietly in the passenger seat beside me. Her hands and shirt are speckled with blood; her eyes wide and her lips are turned down in a frown (that won't do). She'd been a very good girl after all; she'd done exactly what I'd wanted of her despite her obvious distress. All I'd wanted was the location of my rat; I'd been positively ecstatic at the revelation that Gordon had Robin's whereabouts and when we'd gotten it out him (tragically easy to do btw) she'd just wanted to go home (party pooper).

I turn the car off in front of her house and lean towards her, placing a hand on her thigh I grip her shirt with the other and pull her forward for a kiss. She resists at first, her lips rigid against mine but after a bit of coercing they soften and her tongue strokes mine (that's better). I groan into her but then she pushes me away, studies my face briefly, gets out in a rush and hurries towards her front door.

I lean back in the seat as something strange grows in the pit of my gut; it moves up into my chest then to my throat where it leaves a bitter taste in my mouth (the hell is that?). I swallow but the bitter taste (of rejection) doesn't go away; starting the car angrily I get ready to speed off when a muffled yell jerks my attention back to the house; I smirk (die bitch die). I put the car into gear and another yell comes through, my smirk wavers and I roll my eyes. I grudgingly put the car into park, turn off the ignition, slam the door and stalk into the house after her.

"If you aren't dying bitch, I'll kill you myself…"

I walk into the house and take in the disaster of the sitting room; couches overturned, television destroyed, papers strewn on the floor and tables broken (looks like a good time).

"No st-" I hear from the bedroom.

"It didn't have to be this way you snooty bitch!" I feel the smirk fall from my face.

"Give me your fucking wallet or I will shoot you in the face." A stick up (unbelievable); I roll my eyes. A grumble comes from my throat as I pull my gun out of its holster. I nudge the door to the bedroom open and see her sitting at the edge of her bed, eyes wide with fear (god that look) and hands up defensively.

Now we all know I'm not the rescuing type; in fact I'm more of the leave her to die (preferably in a cruel and usual way) kind of guy but I fucked her in that spot!Now this pathetic jackass has her (in _that_ spot) staring up at him like he's some god (the gall)? I kick the door open and letting it bang loudly against the wall.

They both jerk and he whirls around to look at me.

"Quincy please." Begging, she's begging him!

I feel the anger like a cold fist in my gut "Shut up!" I snap at her.

"I will shoot her! I will fuck-"

I roll my eyes at him, lift my gun hand up and fire; it's a perfect headshot, his whole body jerks back splattering blood all around him including Harley face (well that's attractive).

"Um…" Harley mumbles, eyes wider than before as they move over her dead brother.

"Um…" she looks over at me.

"That's how you do murder." I smirk at her. She giggles with a look of shocked amusement then, when she wipes away a trickle of blood from her face the laughter turns into a sob and the tears start (urgh women).

"Alright, Alright. Com'ere, come to daddy." I gesture her over and she stumbles as she rushes into my arms. I pet her hair as the sobs rack her body and her tears seep into my shirt, "Mr. J? I-I think I'm gonna be sick."

She barely gives me enough warning to back away before she leans over and pukes all over the floor and my Fendi shoes (charming).

"I'm s-so s-sorry…", She croaks still staring down at my blemished shoes.

"Eh… " I shrug "I prefer going barefoot anyway." She laughs at that.

"Has anybody ever told you that you're really weird?"

"Nope." I smirk "They're usually too busy screaming or dying." She laughs then her face turns a very interesting shade of green before she leans over again. I sigh dramatically and rolling my eyes (for the umpteenth, time I know) I tolerantly pull her hair away from her face.


	22. A Little Hanky Panky

**Hello all Next chapter is here! There is a part of this chapter that some people may want to skip so I went ahead and marked the beginning/end of it. I've read 10x worse but I know everyone's tolerance is different and I don't want to offend anyone who doesn't want to be offended lol (should have left that line for Joker). Apologies for the Typos and enjoy!**

 **21/**

 **Joker**

She was able to scurry out of my arms and bend over in worship of the porcelain altar before throwing up for the third time tonight. I chuckle as I follow her into the bathroom, toeing my vomit-splattered shoes off along the way. Leaning leisurely onto the doorframe I take in the sight of her curved back and pert ass clad in tight black yoga pants.

I can practically feel the blood rushing out of my brain, through my veins and into the rapidly hardening region in my pants (does it ever end?). Sex is an abhorrence people! Sex is life adding insult to injury by tagging on a happy ending (la petite mort) onto a demeaning act meant to trick you into procreation. I was above that particular joke; that is until she came along (my own personal Eve) of course. I bit the apple and like breaking the seal after a long night of drinking or finally giving in to the urge of committing your first act of murder, if you do it once you're bound to do it again (…and again…and again… and again… ad infinitum).

Harley moves away from the toilet, seemingly done with her retching and stands in front of the sink to get ready to brush her teeth. Her lips move at me but I can't hear a word she's saying, I can only focus on the enticing movement of her pink plump lips. The heat moves from my groin up to the pit of my gut when her breasts start swaying with the to and fro motion of her teeth brushing.

Sex (our parody of death) is an undignified mess of limbs (in extreme cases the dismembered kind), bodily fluids (most of which are icky), inconvenient (and involuntary) muscle engorgements not to mention the unconventional (s)exercise involved. It can be as painful as it is pleasurable and in some cases it can be exploited to leave you feeling used, abused, tricked and worthless (pretty handy). All in all though, I hate sex. I _hate_ it and I also love every fucking second (see what I did there?).

"Haha…"

"Mr. J?" The room comes sharply back into focus when Harley places her hand on my abdomen "Puddin', you've got um… vomit on your pants."

I glance down and see, right at the bottom of my pant leg, splatters of green bile that have started to dry and crust over.

"I can put them in the laundry for you." She offers. I hold her neck and jaw in my hand and brush my thumb over those lips.

"Mmm."

"Take them o-" She begins but I cut off her off by using my grip on her head to jerk her whole body into me. Our lips meet and she immediately turns her face away "No stop." I cut her off again by dropping my hand down to her throat and squeezing "No?" I use my chokehold to push her farther back into the room.

"Quincy is in the next room. My brother is dead in the next room, please." She croaks as her fingers wrap around my wrist to loosen the hold on her neck.

 **skip if you'd like**

I don't stop pushing her into the bathroom until her back hits the sink then I lean forward to place a kiss on her neck. With both her hands on my chest she pushes at me harshly, gaining enough distance and leverage to punch me squarely in the nose (well damn girl). My head whips back and I stumble "Haha…" lurching forward I grab ahold of her shirt collar and jerk downwards until the material tears, the buttons pop off and her pink bra becomes visible underneath her shirt.

She shoulders past me in an attempt to get away but I grab ahold of her arm and, when I refuse to let her go, she struggles to break my grasp. Grabbing both her hands I manage to wrestle her to the floor; with my hips lodged between her thighs and my weight crushing her into the floor I force both her wrists over her head and trap them there.

She stops struggling then, with her eyes locked onto mine, and allows me to shift both her wrists into one hand so I can drag the other hand down towards her bra. We are both gasping; her breasts moving quite pleasingly with motion and I move forward again to kiss her. She kisses me back this time with violence (….yea…) then, when I groan, she bites down onto my tongue drawing blood (never been more turned on in my life).

I try to pull away as the copper taste of blood fills my mouth but she latches on to me. She moans into my mouth when I grind my erection into her then, using my distraction, she shifts quickly and knees me in the groin (bipolar much?). I jerk my hips away giving laughing hysterically at the pain and her the opportunity to wrestle out of my grasp. When she's crawled away from me she staggers to her feet and rushes towards the door.

I go out of my way and better instincts to help her out and this (blue balls) is my thanks? It's a cruel, cruel world ladies and gentlemen (trust me I would know) and being on the receiving end sucks!

"You know, if I'd just let him kill you your corpse wouldn't have objected to a little hanky panky.." I mutter stretching back on the tiles; my tone sounds whinny even to myself (pathetic) I note as I part my thighs from my aching groin.

She reaches the doorway and stares into the blackness of her room for a moment then, gripping the door handle, she closes the door quietly and turns to face me. It takes me a moment to process that she stayed in the room with me; you see, generally when people run away from me they do tend to actually run often screaming (no better way to run).

"I thought this was common knowledge but running away does usually involve, you know, actual running to somewhere else."

Her eyes are glowing when they meet mine, her chest is heaving and her trembling hands come up to finger her tattered shirt. "I'm not running away…I-I've never wanted to fuck someone as much as I want to fuck you right now."

If I had eyebrows they'd be in my hairline. Would you look at that, it was as much fun for her as it was for me (the Eurythmics got it right with Sweet Dreams).

"Hah…" Is all I'm able to get out before she attacks me. The wind is knocked out of me from the impact of her weight on my ribs then she entangles her fingers into my hair and cracks my head (oooowwiiee) on the floor as she locks her lips onto mine.

I pull her bra down to reveal her breasts and take them into my hands; they're warm, heavy and soft and they send desire shooting right down to my cock (ah fuck).

"Ah… fuck…" I mumble against her lips then I pinch and pull both her nipples between my fingers harshly.

She moans against my lips "Ah…Mr. J." her hands run down my cheek and I see movement from the corner of my eyes before she entangles her fingers in my hair and slams my head forcefully into the ground. My teeth jar together and I stare at her shocked again at her behavior. No she did not (that's hot)!

She pulls back laughing gleefully then shifts down onto my stiff cock and grinds onto it. The pleasure is mind numbing but when I grip her hips to pull her down harder she stops grinding (that's just mean). I feel the annoyance grumble through my throat; she's teasing me and I'm not sure whether I want to kiss or kill her for it (probably a little of both). I grab her by the neck again and, much to her giggling delight, I grind forcefully upward (it's decided then).

I use my grip on her neck and a hard fist to her chest to maneuver her off me and onto the floor. The wind is knocked out of her and I take a second to appreciate the pleasing movement of her breasts as she struggles to catch her breath.

Her eyes become large (not so funny now huh) when I pull a blade from my back pocket and run it down her bare belly. I only use enough pressure to leave a very pretty red mark where the knife trails down her skin and when I reach the waist of her pants I cut through it.

"Yes…" she whispers; I look up and I see the desire in her eyes "Yes please. I need you to fuck me." I'm hard to the point of pain now and I impatiently let go of her throat to concentrate on ripping her pants to shreds. She fumbles with my belt and zipper, when she finally is able to loosen them she reaches in to wrap her fingers tightly around my throbbing erection.

"Ah Harl... Fast." I snap at her; she squeezes my erection painfully and her stroking motion becomes vigorous. She reaches her second hand down and the warmth of them envelopes my balls; my head drops onto her chest and I groan.

I drop the knife then rip the remaining material of her pants and underwear to shreds. She's wet, so beautifully wet; the slickness is trickling from between her pussy lips towards her ass. Hitting her hands away I hold the base of my cock and slam it harshly into the warmth of her (ah… finally).

We groan simultaneously at the intensity and she wraps her legs around my hips as I begin fucking her. The rhythmic sound of our hips slapping against each other and her ass smacking the ground echoes through the room. Her hand slides into the back of my pants to grip my ass and I increase the pace of my thrusts.

"Oh puddin' I'm gonna cum." She kisses me deeply and I trap her hands on either side of her head. I feel her pussy convulse around me and I don't stop pounding as the orgasm racks her body. Mildly miffed that she had reached her peek before me, I retaliate by slapping her across the face; she responds by arching her back and scratching at me longingly (not what I had expected).

Shifting to a kneeling position, I lift her legs onto my shoulders and push my weight onto her and resume my harsh thrusting. The pleasure builds with every one of my jerking motions and I know I'm not going to last very long.

"Ah, Mr. J. It's happening again." Her hands drop to my hips and I the coolness of sweat trickles down the back of my neck. My orgasm builds in me like the drawing back of the tide before a tidal wave. When her pussy starts convulsing around my cock this time I orgasm with her. The ecstasy comes over me in waves, each one spurting more of my cum into the warmth of her.

It feels so, so good and I hang on to her for the ride.

When the last wave washes past me I roll over boneless (pun intended) beside her and for the first time in a really long while my eyes fall closed.

 **it's safe**

* * *

 **Harley**

His whole body comes down onto mine; his defined chest crushes my thighs down onto my breasts, his arms fall by my ears and when he places his forehead against the side of my neck I dig my nails into his damp hips. I can feel the orgasm come over him in intermittent spasms, his hips jerking and stopping as I convulse around him.

When the ecstasy quiets down to a pleasant after-burn and his hips stop pushing into mine I manage a quick kiss on his cheek as he rolls off of me. Shifting to face him I watch in fascination as his normally cold and penetrating eyes turn hazy behind drooping eyelids.

He's falling asleep, I realize, and my heart starts racing again for a reason other than physical arousal. I've never felt so much bliss from just being close to somebody. Inching closer, I prop myself up on an arm and pepper him with kisses, his hard defined chest, his damp neck, his flushed cheeks and finally his lips. He kisses back, his lips moving softly against mine; surprised by his tenderness to look at him. His eyes are closed and his breathing shallow; he'd responded to me in his sleep.

I'm riding on pure emotional and psychological bliss when I walk into my darkened bedroom; the sight of Quincy's body makes me stumble though. I'd forgotten that he was here; I'd forgotten that we'd left him dead in here. I place my hand on my belly and take a few steadying breathes before moving closer.

He's laying limbs splayed haphazardly, eyes staring blankly at the ceiling and a bloody red hole right in the middle of his forehead. I wait silently for the gagging to start again or maybe for the tears but nothing happens. No more heaving, no more tearing up and curiously there is very little remorse left for him too.

Whoever he was he hadn't been my brother, not really. Not anymore. He came here ready to kill me; I could see it in his eyes when he pointed the gun at me. It wasn't like the night Mr. J walked into my bedroom with a switchblade or when he'd straddled me in his hideout with a gun to my head. Those incidents had felt like games, not unlike the one we just played in the bathroom. They were scary and painful but looking back at them they were also playful and fun.

What I felt with Quincy was neither playful nor fun; when I saw the look in his eyes I knew he had come with the intent to kill me and all I felt was unbridled fear. I had heard Mr. J revving the engine of his car; I thought he'd left but he came in to save me. I drop my hand from belly and stare into Quincy's lifeless eyes then perching over his body I mutter smugly "That's how you do murder, bitch!"

I step over him and, throwing my blood-splattered duvet over him, I gather a few pillows and a bed sheet that I carry back into the bathroom. After gingerly placing a pillow under puddin's head and snuggling up to him I push a stray strand of hair away from his ear.

"You came in and saved me." I whisper to him "You heard me screaming didn't you? You heard me and you came in and saved me." I kiss his neck "You love me, you do and I love you too."

Putting my head down on his shoulder and wrapping his arm around my waist I close my eyes and join him in sleep.


	23. Here Be Monsters

**Here is the next chapter. My posts are again probably going to take longer than they used to. I'm taking a few courses now (including a creative writing class ...yay!) so I'm going to have to divide my attention. Please be patient with me. The posts will continue coming regularly but will be a bit slower. Enjoy the chapter & once again sorry for typos.**

 **22**

 **Joker**

The tension zings through my body like electricity contracting every muscle and pulling me up into a sitting position. As I sit still and silent in the blackness that surrounds me the initial tension thrumming through my limbs dissipates. It's replaced with an unfamiliar ease, a kind of comfort and silence of mind that I haven't experienced in a very long time.

At first my roaming eyes work fruitlessly to see past the black, but as the seconds meander by I make out a shape. A body. Slender but shapely. Quiet but captivating. It's a beautiful woman lying on the floor beside me; she's close enough that I can see the slight rise and fall of her breathing in the darkness. Her breath comes out in puffs disturbing the blond strands of hair resting on her cheeks and lips.

"Harley…" The name sucks the fog of sleep from my brain and memories of her hands in my hair, her fingers stroking my cock and the worship in her eyes floods my thoughts.

I brush the hair away from her face in awe of the warmth that's spreading through my chest. It feels like the intensity of it will burn a hole through my ribs; it's an odd sensation and I grip at my unbuttoned shirt to contain it. As much as I tried to deny it before I know this feeling. I **know** what it is.

This was supposed to be a game, a fun little game I played at the expense of somebody else, but she was right. I am falling in lo –(HERE BE MONSTERS!). I jerk in shock at the intensity of the interjection.

"Ah… my internal commentator has returned." I sigh, well that at least is a relief.

What was it I said before? That love was for the foolish masses and I was not one of them (rrriiiiiggghhhtttt…). I thought I was incapable of that feeling or that I had forsaken it but she is proving me wrong, just like she proved me wrong about my asexuality.

My hand travels up my neck and the warmth in my chest turns into an inferno, it's burning all the oxygen around me so I can't breath and I scramble up to my feet gasping for air. This is not who I am. I wrestle my pants on and leave the bathroom. This is not who I am. I rush out not bothering to pick up the vomit splattered shoes that I trip over.

When I reach the outside door I push it open and welcome the cool blast of air that hits my face and chest; I lean against the frame and gulp it in frantically, closing my eyes to get the thundering in my chest under control.

This is not who I am. This goes against everything I represent. This is not what I am. This is below me. I got what I wanted from her (pussy), I got what I needed from her (that truth serum) and now even if I can't kill her (urgh) I can discard her (like a used condom).

Suddenly feeling much better I pull myself back up to my full 6'5" and, ensuring that I don't make a noise that could wake her up, I hurry back into the bathroom to pick up my phone.

I start texting Frost once I'm outside again.

'Pick up lambo at Harley's', His response comes almost immediately despite it being just after 3:30 in the morning (good man).

'Ok. You?'

'5:30 Abigail & Crescent', then, when my stomach grumbles, I add 'Bring breakfast'.

'Got it boss.'

I pop the hood of the lambo and pull out the suitcase full of clothes I stashed in there. Yes, I have spare clothes in my hood; being me is messy work and I never know what (blood/guts/gore) I may be bathed in at any given time.

I take out a pair of red track pants and a black hoodie then, ignoring the cold (aka shrinkage), I change right there on the street. I don't bother with running shoes; I wasn't lying when I told her that I preferred going barefoot.

When I've stashed my dirty clothes in the car I tuck my gun into the waist of my pants, pull up my hood and start my 2-hour run towards Abigail and Crescent.

* * *

 **Harley**

My back aches, the sharp pains arc up my spine and cause explosions behind my closed eyelids. I stretch my back out, blinking repeatedly to accustom my eyes to the darkened room before taking a look around. It takes a few minutes but then the room starts coming into focus. A bathtub. A sink. A toilet A medicine cabinet. A hamper.

"Oh. Right…" I mumble, my lips curl up in a contented smile at the erotic images flashing through my mind. Every time I think the sex with him couldn't get better he proves me wrong. I close my eyes again and reach over to where Mr. J had been laying when I'd fallen asleep but my hand lands on a cold empty space. Jerking to a sitting position I look around the room.

Gone.

Shuffling to my feet I turn the lights on and take a better look around the room; there is no evidence that he'd ever been in here. His clothes are gone and his phone is too. I wrap the blanket around my body and head towards the sitting room.

"Pudd-"I stumble over something but catch myself in time to avoid face planting into my floorboards. I glance behind to see that I'd tripped over the shoes he'd left scattered on my floor. Rolling my eyes I kick them both towards my bed only to watch them bounce off Quincy and back into my path.

"Oh, you're still here." I mumble when I register him still lying on the bedroom floor.

 _Hellooo! What did'ya think it would do? Walk away? You're gonna hafta move it._

My body jerks "What?"I look around the room. "Mr. J?" there is no response. I frown and look back down to Quincy's covered corpse; I _am_ going to need to move him-

 _It! Not him! It!_

I place my hand on my forehead and take a steadying breath. Yes, I was going to need to move … it… at some point but in the mean time, "Puddin'!" I sound out again and keep going into the sitting room. Other than the carnage in the room it's completely empty. I rush towards the window to check for his car and as I had suspected it's gone. The bastard's gone!

 _Didn't even have the decency to slap you in the face to wake you up… how rude!_

He left; he just got up and left. He didn't wake me up to say 'goodbye' or 'see you later' or give me a peck on the cheek. We had a moment last n-

 _Bash and dash!_

We had a moment last night! He'd fallen asleep right here in my home; it had felt like progress. I thought I'd had proven myself to him then I wake up and he's gone!

 _Hit it and quit it!_

My stomach sinks; I don't even have his number. How could I not even have his number? It's the fucking 21st century!

 _Fuck and run!_

"Shut up!" I yell then look around the room expectantly "Shut up bitch! Shut up! Shut up! Shut UP!" I fly into a tantrum; I kick through my destroyed sitting room, rip down the few pictures left on the walls and break anything I can get my hands on. I'm lost to the whirlwind of my rage, taking pleasure in the chaos already at my feet and in the little destruction I'm able to reign down. I keep riding my emotional tidal wave until the rage seeps out of me and all that's left is exhaustion; my muscles are trembling from it and my hurt, although still palpable, has exhausted it's control.

The tears begin to prick at my eyes and my breathing becomes irregular. The voice is right, that really was a fuck and run if I ever I'd ever seen one. I guess I didn't do enough; what I did wasn't enough to prove that I really was devoted to him in every way.

 _You couldn't even perform some light assault and battery without waterworks!  
_

I throw my hands up in exasperation at the voice butting into my private thoughts " 'Light' is a bit of an exaggera-."

 _You cried!_ _ **Pussies**_ _do that!_

"God shut up!"

 _You threw up all over his shoes and his pants! Shame on you!_ My cheeks flame red, I'd forgotten about that little detail. I drop my face into my hands. "Ok, that was terrible…" I moan into my palms.

 _Damn straight it was! Get your shit together!_

My eyebrows shoot up at the irony of a disembodied voice telling me to get my shit together and I burst out into a fit of giggles. My sides start aching from the intensity of the laughter and my knees feel weak so I plunk myself on the floor.

"God I'm loosing it…" I mumble whipping the mirth from my eyes. Disembodied voices don't just start talking to people; something is wrong with me. Sitting in the complete devastation that is my sitting room, I hug my knees to my chest with one hand and play with a strand of my hair with the other. If someone walked into Arkham and told me they were experiencing auditory stimulus that had no physical origin I'd be thinking disorder or some sensory processing problem. Yet here I am responding to a disembodied voice, a seemingly very real disembodied voice.

"I think I may be having a psychotic break." I mumble to myself.

 _Ya, and? Do you want him or not?_

"Good point." I chirp as I head back to the bedroom. The sun is finally peeking through my window and the morning light edges over my bedroom floor, creeping ever slowly towards the partially covered body sprawled beside the bed. I close the curtains then walk over to my dresser and pull out a pair of black jeans and a loose white top before heading to the shower.

I may not have puddin's phone number but now that I think about it I really don't need it. I know a few places he frequents; not to mention the location of his hideout.

 _Atta girl!_

I **will** prove myself to him. First though, I will need to make a pit stop at the mall; I need a contingency plan just in case Mr. J decides to take off again.

* * *

 **Frost**

I push the door open, gesturing for our guest and her two guards to follow me into the large study where Mr. J stands, shirtless and head bent in concentration over the newest addition to his card stacking collection. He hovers over these constructions for days at a time, piling stack upon stack of cards just to destroy them when he's done. The largest one I'd ever seen him build was a replica of Notre Dame De Paris; it had been 20 feet long, 15 feet tall and 10 feet wide. He'd slaved over it for almost a week non-stop and just about dive tackled it as soon as it was done.

He doesn't look up from his new endeavor when we walk into the room until our guest a sultry, black haired woman, pushes past me. "J," she purrs at him "It's so good to see" she gives him a long once over "so much of you. I've always wondered what you-"

"Do you have them?" he interrupts dismissing the suggestive tone in her voice and the finger she drags across her low cut top.

I move back towards the door, indicating that her guards were to give them some distance before standing at the entrance. I grip one of my wrists and watch in silence as Miss Beckett walks around the cards on the floor.

It's at times like these that I find the mysteries of the female mind the most confusing. What is the attraction to him? The money? The power? The danger? The unpredictability? The certainty of death? Why stick your head farther into the jaws of a monster than you need to?

I can sense the mood flip hovering above us like the blade of a guillotine and I shift subtlety to get a better view of her bodyguards.

"All work and no play makes J a very dull boy." She runs her hands along the front of his chest and he reacts so quickly that I almost miss his fist connecting with her face. She falls back, head cracking loudly on the floor "Don't touch me!" He yells in outrage.

The bodyguards' react but too slowly, I shoot them both before they are even able to fully unholster their guns.

The rage that was on him a few seconds before disappears as quickly as it came over him. He laughs lightheartedly as he wipes at his chest "I don't know where you've been."

He pulls her to her feet by her hair "Do you have the floor plans?"

She nods frantically blood and tears streaming down her face "I-i-it's i-in my po-ocket." She pulls a USB stick out and hands it to him.

"Great!" He says placing the USB in his pocket then grips her head between his fingers and snaps her neck.

He beams at me, "We've got Robin."

I'm just about to respond when the door swings open and connects with my arm and shoulder.

"Puddin'!" I hear. My eyebrows shoot up as the Doctor storms into the room.

Mr. J throws his hands up in the air quite clearly exasperated, as he looks at me for an explanation "What is it with these women?"


	24. Dire At Best

**I'M ALIVE! So sorry about the long wait but these classes + work are killing me. I haven't proof read this properly so I'm sorry in advance for typos. I'll try to make the next update faster.**

 **ENJOY!**

 **23**

 **Harley**

They didn't have what I needed at the mall; I had to drive around town and, after many stops at car dealerships and tech stores, I finally found it. Four hours and $300 later I am the proud and mildly smug owner of Wayne Enterprises' latest tracking device. It's tiny, requires no installation, can track a vehicle anywhere in the world and has a battery life of approximately 1 year. The tracking is real time and, with a little bit of eyelash fluttering and a few giggles, the gentleman at the outlet was kind enough to set everything I need up on my phone… Mr. J wouldn't be taking off on me again… and if he did I would always know where to find him.

I park a little bit away from the hideout and make the remaining short trek on foot; when I reach the parking lot Mr. J's purple lambo is, as I expected, out in the open. I look around and when I see nobody keeping watch I make my way around the metal fence and I crouch behind his car then I pull the little black tracker out of my bag and feeling around blindly under the Lamborghini before I'm able to strap the tracker on.

I get up, dust my jeans off and make my way towards the large metal door then, fisting my hands, I bang loudly on it and wait. A loud humming draws my attention to the security camera on the ceiling then, after a few painfully long seconds, the metal in front of me clanks and the doors slide open. The man on the other side gives me a long, thorough once over; his eyes move from my shoes all the way up to my hair. "I want to s-" I started.

"You da boss' squeeeeeze?" He says eyeing me with a lascivious smile. I nod and he steps aside "Com'on in," I see his gaze drop to my ass as I walk by "wouldn't wanna be responsible for turnin' you 'way." I feel the heat come into my cheeks, I can practically feel his eyes shooting lasers on my ass.

 _Ya gonna do somethin' about that?_ I stop in my tracks. The voice is right. If I'm going to be Mr. J's girl then I had best start acting like it. Pushing off my back foot and pivoting on the ball of my front foot I connect a kick to the man's head.

He stumbles forward into the wall "That's Mizz Squeeze to ya … looser." I smirk at him sliding down the wall. Two shots sound out behind me and when I'm sure he won't be getting back up to his feet and in that direction.

I barrel through the closed door and skid to a stop; Mr. J is hovering over a very attractive, and also very dead woman "Puddin'!"

My mind goes blank at the sight of his bare chest; he's got a few more tattoos now on his abs and his back. He looks absolutely delicious.

 _Yuuuuummm-y._

"How did you get in?" his voice is strained and it reminds me of how he sounded last night.

*"Um… " Images of him grabbing a hold of his cock and pushing into me flash in my mind "some uh.. guy…at the front doo-"

He waves me off and disappears out of the room; my gaze lingers on his ass then up to the tattoos on his defined back. I glance over at Frost for an explanation but his eyes are blank and his facial expression is neutral.

A gunshot goes off in the next room, there are footsteps past the door and another 5 shots go off before Mr. J reappears.

He takes a deep breath in then exhales on "What?" He holsters his gun.

I don't know where to start so I decide to keep it simple "You're an asshole!" Frost shifts, he doesn't leave but he moves farther behind Mr. J and closer to the open door.

"Yes, I am…" Mr. J laughs "Go away."

I shake my head and jab a finger at him "You slapped me around last night!"

He grins widely "You enjoyed that."

"You tried to rape me!" This time Frost leaves the room and stands on the other side of the door.

Mr. J laughs again "You enjoyed that too, Dollface… I'd say a little too much even." His eyes drop slowly down my body "You come for an encore?"

I take one of my running shoes off and throw it at him "You left a dead body in my bedroom!"

He ducks just in time to avoid the incoming shoe "You're welcome."

I rush towards him and wrap my arms around him "You didn't have the decency to stay the night!" Mr. J's smile drops "Go away Doctor."

"I know I disappointed you yesterday… with the crying and the throwing up and the…"

Mr. J tries to stand back but I don't let him "I can do better." I whisper and place light kisses behind his ear and down his neck. "I can do better, let m show yo-"

This time, when he pushes me away, I stumble back and fall on my ass.

"Go away."

He turns away from me, quite clearly dismissing me. I get to my feet and dust my ass off; for a second I envision bashing him over the head with my bat but then I settle for my second shoe. He doesn't see it coming this time to duck it and it bounces off the back his head with a satisfying thud.

Fine, if he wants to pretend he doesn't want me, I can play his game. I leave the room and find Frost still standing outside of the door "Hey there puddin'…" I say as I drag my hands up his body; his chest is pleasantly firm "Hmmm I got'an itch for ya ta scratch gorgeous." I attack his lips, his whole body turns rigid and his hands come up away from my body. "Uh… what the fuck?"

I don't need to turn around to know Mr. J's behind us; I can tell by how quickly Frost's heart is slamming against my chest. I move against him and moan, "Mr. J…." he starts "I didn't… I haven't… I don't want t-"

"Harley!" Mr. J sounds more exasperated than upset; I completely ignore him as I undo the first two button of Frost's shirt. "Stop traumatizing the help!" He mutters from behind me. A hand entangles in my hair; the harshness his grip is so familiar and butterflies explode in my belly when it's used to yank me away from a wide-eyed Frost.

Frost flounders and I laugh hysterically as I reach behind me to grab Mr. J's hips. I've never seen Frost so expressive, he's gone pale and his eyes are round. He is quite clearly shitting bricks.

Still laughing hysterically I grind into Mr. J's groin; his body reacts immediately with slight stiffening in his pants. "Don't worry Frost, Mr. J doesn't want me anymore. I'm sure he won't mind ya getting his sloppy seconds."

Frost's arms are still up and he shakes his head at us "Mr. J …I-"

Mr. J shakes me painfully by the hair, making my eyes water and interrupting Frost "Do not push me Harl, my mood is dire at best and I already feel like hurting you."

"And you!" My head is at an angle facing Mr. J so I see his gaze settle on Frost. His eyes are cold, his lips turned toward and I can hear the voice from earlier this morning squealing with the excitement his anger brings.

"You should see your face…" Mr. J bursts out laughing, "Don't look so worried, I can be reasonable."

"Uh…" Frost mumbles and I can hear a particularly disappointed ' _Awwee'_ from the voice.

Mr. J continues laughing and waves him off then uses his grip in my hair to maneuver me back into the room and push me onto the floor. His smile disappears as soon as we are alone; he squats in front of me and clasps his hands between his knees.

For a second he squats there, head cocked to the side, body immobile except for his eyes that are moving back and forth over me. He's looking at me, but I sense that he's not really seeing me. I crawl towards him then, when he's within arm's reach, I drag my hands up his legs and grip his thighs "Mr. J?" He doesn't respond so I push my hands down to his inner thighs, closer to his groin; that very quickly gets his attention.

He blinks a few times, quirking his lips up "You're very eager to please aren't you?"

I kiss him at the corner of his mouth.

"Alright, Doll. You want another chance?" I nod at him. His smile is wide; it makes my hands tremble on his thighs and a ball twist in my belly but I hum with anticipation anyway "Let's go kill ourselves a Robin."

 **Joker**

Frost didn't come with us. She (the bane of my life) had done so much bitching about her dead brother's body (the nerve!) that, to stop her whining (the ungrateful nag) and my freshly aching head, I sent him off to move it. Now here I am practically gnawing at the bit waiting for her to let me in.

The commissioner told us that Robin (the currently comatose and delightedly helpless Boy Blunder) is being hidden in an unused wing of Gotham General. The floor plans handed over by the corpse in my study confirmed that, like many of the old buildings in the city, the hospital has many hidden escape tunnels.

Now I think it's fair to say that I'm not much for keeping a low profile; I've actually been accused of being rather extravagant (mainly by mister tall dark and knightly). However, stealth is an occasional and rather unfortunate necessity. I have no doubt that Batsy has all kinds of surveillance and that, at smallest sign of neon-green hair follicles, he'll come kicking the doors in (as usual) and ruining my fun (also classic Bats). I would need to use the hidden passages … that can only be accessed from the inside (see my dilemma?). Hence Harley; she is a doctor, she has proven herself reliable (if a tad clingy), she is also not associated with the Joker gang and not a known criminal (HA!).

"Only a matter of time at the rate she's going…" I chuckle and the same warmth from this morning blossoms in my chest. I adjust the hood over my head and sink farther down into the front seat of the stolen jalopy of a car.

Something hard in the seat has been digging into my back for the past twenty minutes "Urgh… come on come on come on!" As if on cue, a section of the hospital wall at the end of the dark alleyway juts outward and Harley appears in the doorway.

She's watching me with a huge smile as I walk over and, when I try to get into the tunnel, she spreads her arms and legs out to block my way. My lips drop down in a frown "You are getting on my nerves Harley…" I expect her to move (because any sane person would), instead she grins wider and spreads her limbs farther out (I miss Frost).

"Ya got something ta say, Mr. J?" she says in between giggles.

"Get out of my fuckin' way?"

"Nooooooooooooo." She says as she drags a foot up my leg and pushes playfully at my hip (annoyingly arousing); I sway away from her then back again and my lips drop further down. Am I never to have control of my own damn body again?

"Move or I'll kill you?" I suggest

"Nope. I'll give you a hint." She places her lips against my ear and presses her bust against my chest. I stifle the urge to lean into her and cup her breasts "First word 'Thank', last word 'you'.'" She says against my ear.

I grip her jaw; she winces at the force but doesn't stop smiling. I start to tell her "If you expect me thank you –"

"You're welcome!" She's grinning widely and looking rather smug.

"I didn't…" She interrupts me with a kiss and I groan despite myself; when I'm finally able to pull myself away, I elbow past her.

"Fucking pain in the ass." I say to myself. Harley grabs hold of the waist of my pants, still giggling and almost skipping behind me.

"This is going to get old real fast…" I tell her as I lead the way towards Robin's hidden room.


End file.
